


You play doctor, I’ll play detective

by Sardonicpineapple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Eventual Smut, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Hickeys, Loss of Virginity, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Violence, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Sherlock Masturbating, Slow Burn, Smut, Sweet, TeenSherlock, Teenlock, Top John Watson, Wet Dream, teenagerelationship, teenjohn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:23:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 40,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sardonicpineapple/pseuds/Sardonicpineapple
Summary: Sherlock has spent his school years alone, then along comes John. The sociopath falls head over heals in love for the golden boy, but hasn’t worked out that’s why he gets butterflies when ever he sees him. If he isn’t aware of his own feelings, How is he meant to know John feels the same?EDITEDBasically what I think what would have happened if John and Sherlock met as teenagers. Except John actually admits he’s gay!





	1. Everyone is stupid

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This will be slightly out of character because of their age, but I hope you all still enjoy! Comment if you enjoyed, and/or there’s something in particular you’d like to read.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock meet for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this!

God, everyone was so stupid. This was a thought that ran through the curly haired teen’s head nearly everyday. He was sat in his history class, wondering why he needed to know what methods the ancient Romans used when farming. He’d also fallen asleep in maths, and completely zoned out in P.E, resulting in being hit in the face by a dodge ball.  
“Mr Holmes.”  
The lanky teen lifted his head to lock eyes with his teacher.  
“Sorry, could you repeat the question?”  
“Class ended five minutes ago.”  
Sherlock looked around, and saw that he was the only student left in the room.  
“Oh. Sorry sir.”  
He quickly gathered his things, and went to leave the class.  
“Actually, Mr Holmes, a moment please.”  
He turned around somewhat reluctantly.  
“I’m worried about how little you pay attention in class.”  
He should have seen this coming.  
“I wouldn’t be worried, sir. I assure you, I am listening. I got an A on my last assignment, which is a sure fire sign of your excellent teaching.”  
He flashed him his signature boyish grin, then turned on his heel, and left. He wandered down to his biology class, which he actually enjoyed, although he couldn’t stand his teacher. Mr Mitchell was a stuck up prick, who was always desperate to catch Sherlock out. So far, every attempt had been a fail. Sherlock quickly walked to the classroom, not a challenge on his long legs, and slumped down in a chair in the second row by the window. His usual logistics for where to sit to avoid getting called on thrown out the window, as he knew Mitchell would find him wherever he sat. The only way he could go undetected was if he threw himself out the window, and ran home. He also knew his stuff when it came to biology, and any opportunity to show other people that was one he grasped with both hands. He ignored the snide comments other children exchanged as he walked the halls. That’s what he’d always done. Other children filtered into the room, including his lab partner, Molly Hooper. Molly was a bouncy girl with light brown hair, hazel eyes, a pale complexion, and a gigantic crush on Sherlock, which she was terrible at hiding.  
“Hello, Sherlock!” She mused, jumping up to sit beside him.  
“Hello, molly.”  
She was tall for a girl, but the slender teen towered over her. He towered over a lot of the children in his class, lucky as otherwise he would have been the subject for much more bullying than he already was. Many children felt too intimidated to go with in a five yard radius of him. Molly sure didn’t feel the same. Sherlock was sure she’d climb into his lap given half a chance. Probably a quarter of a chance he rethought as he caught her staring at him, her tongue just about ready to fall out of her mouth.  
He didn’t mind her too much. She was smart, kind, and probably the closest thing he had to a friend. She had a good number of friends herself who were clearly more tolerable of her bad jokes than he was. They were testing substances with iodine, which was rather dull, which left plenty of brain power for chatting. Oh goody(!)  
“So, What did you do this weekend?”  
Sherlock knew he’d have to engage in small talk with her if he wanted to keep on her good side. She was rather useful, and an adequate partner.  
“I tested to see by how much a turtles’ reaction time would increase if it was dosed on caffeine, and by how much it would decrease when dosed on alcohol.”  
He waited patiently for her response. They were long passed the point of her thinking he was crazy, and asking to sit elsewhere. She knew very well how odd he was.  
“You don’t have turtles.”  
He swivelled round in his chair to look at her, her doe eyes questioning.  
“No, you’re quite right.”  
“Ok, then where did you get them?”  
“I took them from next door.” He mumbled, turning back to their experiment.  
“You stole your neighbours’ turtles?”  
“No, I borrowed them. I fully intend to give them back, believe me. The little one is a mean drunk. Kept biting me.”  
She giggled at this, probably more than she should have done. Sherlock would have preferred if she didn’t giggle at all, but even by normal people’s standards this was too much. He decided to silence her by asking the question he knew she was waiting for.  
“What did you do?”  
He faked interest as she babbled on about baking with her grandmother, making noises of agreement, and nodding his head where appropriate. After they finished their experiment, they sat waiting for everyone else to finish.  
“Do you want to go to the park after school?”  
He searched his brain for an appropriate response, already aware ‘no, I really don’t’ was not ok.  
“I’m kind of busy, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”  
She looked a little put out, but nodded her head anyway.  
“Ok, sure.”  
The bell rang, and Sherlock was already on his feet, and leaving the room before molly could ask him about tomorrow. First lunch, then English, and finally Chemistry. He liked that. Not only the subject was enjoyable, but he was rather fond of his teacher, Mr Lestrard. He was a tall chap in his early 20s, and had endless patience for Sherlock’s bullshit, even though he knew the teen thought he was smarter than him, and regularly tried to prove this. He found himself an empty table in the corner, and quietly sipped on his milk. He felt someone walking up behind him, and started coming up with a nice way to tell molly to go away. He was surprised when instead of molly, stood a dark haired boy of average height, a pair of spectacles balances on the end of his nose, and a blazer that really didn’t fit him. Mike Stamford.  
“Hello, Sherlock.”  
“Hello.”  
“Can I sit?”  
Sherlock pondered this for a moment. He didn’t mind mike. He was a nerd, and got bullied because of it, like Sherlock. He was interesting to talk to, and was by no means Stupid. He was also one of the only kids who tolerated Sherlock.  
“You may.”  
“So, What classes you got left?”  
“English and chemistry.” Sherlock mumbled, staring inquisitively at his sandwich.  
“How’s that going?”  
“I’ve been working alone since Wednesday, after I told Sasha Hopkins she was an idiot for thinking electrolytes and electrolysis were the same thing.”  
“Couldn’t they just find you another partner?” Mike queried after a moment.  
“No.”  
“Why not?”  
“Because I’m really annoying, and I’ve either worked with them before, or they’ve heard horror stories, and refuse to work with me. So, if you hear of anyone who’s interested...”  
“Yeah, yeah of course.”  
The lunch bell rang, and Sherlock trailed off to his next class. He sat through English, pretending to be listening, and ended up writing pi to 400 places from his elbow to his thumb. On his way to chemistry, he heard someone call him. He turned around to see Mike, and another boy. Said boy was a few inches shorter than mike, with ashy blonde hair, and navy eyes. Sherlock scanned him from his shoes up to his hair, and from his left hand to his right.  
“Sherlock, this is my friend John Watson.”  
“So, where was it? Peru, Bolivia, Ecuador, or Chilli?” Sherlock asked, his attention going to the boy’s eyes.  
“Sorry?”  
The boy, John, looked startled, a look of confusion on his face.  
“Did you tell him that?”  
“No. How could I have? I didn’t know you were here till five minutes ago.” Mike chuckled, looking between both boys.  
“Chemistry is this way.”  
Sherlock nodded his head in the direction of the classroom.  
“I know... wait, how did you know I have Chemistry? Have you looked at my schedule or something?” John teased.  
“No, but I said to mike this afternoon I needed a new lab partner, now here he is with an old school friend. He doesn’t take chemistry. His next lesson is French, which is on the other side of the building. He wouldn’t have come all the way down here just to introduce you.”  
John opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again.  
“Yes, he is always like this.”  
“Class is about to start. Enjoy French, mike.”  
Sherlock turned around, and headed for the lab, stopping by the door to make sure John was following him. They entered the room, and sat down at the front of the still empty classroom.  
“How did you know about Peru?”  
“Ah, So it was Peru. I thought so.”  
“How did you know if mike didn’t tell you?” John asked, rummaging in his back for his text book.”  
“The scarf in your bag, it’s Alpaca wool. Alpacas are typically found in either Peru, Ecuador, Bolivia, or chilli. You have a tan, and the ends of your hair are slightly lighter then the roots, your hair has been bleached by the sun. That suggests you’ve been out there a while. You walk around the school as if you recognise it, meaning you have attended it previously. I joined in year 9, and we’ve never met. You must have left in year 8, at least. So two or three years in Peru. Now, your brother.”  
“My brother?” John asked, confused, and slightly annoyed.  
“Yes. Your rucksack. It’s rather beaten down. Your clothes on the other hand are perfectly laundered, your shoes are barely scuffed, and your text books are in immaculate condition. You’re careful with your possessions. But the rucksack. It’s got holes that have been re-sewn, and it’s faded. It also has the name ‘Harry Watson’ written on the inside. Second child, lots of hand me downs. Age gap is big enough that your brother no longer needs the rucksack for school. I’m guessing you don’t get along with your brother from the tone you adopted when I asked about him. Probably favourite child. It is a very nice rucksack, just like the MP3player you had earlier, also a hand me down, who’s costs most likely outright that of the phone in your back pocket. You’re jealous. Obviously.”  
John stayed silent for a moment. Sherlock wondered whether he’d just screwed up his chances of having a somewhat decent lab partner.  
“That was... incredible.”  
Sherlock wasn’t sure if he’d heard John right, and turned to look at him, blue eyes wide.  
“Well that’s not what people normally say.”  
“What do they normally say?”  
“Piss off.”  
John laughed, which in turn made sherlock laugh. Sherlock never made anyone laugh, besides Molly, and that didn’t count. People laughed at him, but never with him. John was well and truly impressed by the taller boy, but made sure not to show this on his face. The ‘incredible’ he’d blurted out earlier clearly a fail. Sherlock was chuffed to have astounded the new kid. He enjoyed the look of amazement on his face. Their teacher walked into the room a few moments later. He was a tall chap in his mid 20s. He was a nice guy, with endless patience for Sherlock’s bullshit. He knew the teen thought he was more clever than he was, and took any opportunity to prove it. More children pulled into the class room, a few girls all casting a glance to John, then giggling to each other. Sherlock was used to these sorts of glances. Many girls, not just Molly, were nursing a crush on him. Molly was just the only one who actually talked to him instead of just gawking at him from afar. Sherlock felt something a normal person would call jealousy. But Sherlock didn’t get jealous. Mr Lestrade taut them about the reactivity series, and had them do some experiments with sulphuric acid. John attempted to make small talk with Sherlock, which the later did his best to engage in. Class finally ended, the bell sounded, and all the students filtered out, except John and Sherlock. They walked together out to the school gates, then went their separate ways. John was stopped by a few other kids wanting to investigate the new boy, and a few who remembered him from before. He went to leave when a dark haired girl went up to him.  
“So you’ve befriended the freak, huh?”  
“I’m sorry?” John asked, surprised.  
“Sherlock Holmes. He’s a freak. He knows way more than he should. He doesn’t even need to be in this school. He could go to one of those schools for gifted kids, but he likes to freak out the kids here. Likes to think he’s better than them.”  
John wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Although he’d only known Sherlock a short time, he was already rather fond of him.  
“And you just know he’s a psycho. You can see it in his eyes. One of these days, winding up the other kids won’t be enough. He’ll snap. Psychopaths get bored.”  
John furrowed his eyebrows. Was Sherlock a psychopath?  
“Sally!” Someone yelled across the playground.  
The dark haired girl turned around in response, and waved.  
“Stay away from Sherlock Holmes.”  
With that, she ran off towards the boy who called out to her, and left the school grounds. John left too, and wandered along the street, kicking rocks out of his path, and contemplating what a weird day he’d had. Sherlock was incredible. I mean, John could see why he annoyed people, but he was brilliant. He wasn’t going to allow that sally girl to make deductions for him, and chose to make his own judgments. A noise from the left startled him, which made him halt in his tracks. He whipped round to see a tall figure step out from an alley way.  
“Jesus Christ!” John helped, jumping back half a foot.  
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”  
The figure had a deep, mellifluous voice, one that sent shivers down John’s spine. He, cos it was definitely a man, slipped out from the shadows. He was tall, much taller than John, (although most people were.) with wavy, sandy brown hair, a dark stare, and a sharp nose. He was dressed in the same school uniform as John, but was a few years older, and was holding a black umbrella. He looked positively terrifying.  
“Then don’t jump out of alleyways. Talk to me in school, or friend me on social media like a normal person.”  
“When avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet.”  
John raised his eyebrows at the mention of the curly haired boy, his attention peeking. Why did everyone want to talk to him about Sherlock.  
“What do you have to do with Sherlock?”  
“That’s not important. What is, however, is what you have to do with him.”  
The older boy raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for john’s response.  
“I don’t really have a connection to him. I only met him today.”  
“And yet I saw you following him about, and having lunch with him in school.”  
“He’s my chemistry lab partner.” John said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable that the sinister, older teen had been watching them.  
“Who are you?”  
“An interested party.” He said, narrowing his eyes.  
“Interested in Sherlock? Why? I’m guessing you’re not friends?”  
“You’ve met him, how many friends do you imagine he has? I’m probably the closest thing he has to a friend.”  
“And what’s that?”  
“An enemy.” The boy smirked, leaning his weight on his umbrella. “If you asked him, he’d probably say his arch enemy. He does love to be dramatic.”  
“Well thank god you’re above that. Jumping out of alley ways...” John mumbled, determined not to show any signs of fear. He was used to people cornering him. Usually to tease him about his height. He felt his phone buzz. He took it out of his pocket, and saw a text from Sherlock. When did he get his phone number?  
221b Baker Street. Come at once if convenient.  
SH  
“I’m not distracting you, am I?”  
“No.” John said quickly. “You’re not distracting me at all.”  
“Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?” The older boy asked, looking at John through the wavy fringe that had fallen over his eyes, which made him look somehow even more scary.  
“Umm, I think that’s none of your business.”  
“It could be.”  
“It really couldn’t.”  
“If you do intend to befriend him, I’d be more than happy to do homework assignments for you, or turn a blind eye when you get in trouble.”  
It was then that John noticed the prefect badge on the boy’s left lapel.  
“In exchange for what?”  
“Information. Nothing you would feel uncomfortable with, just... tell me what he’s up to.”  
“Why?” John asked, slowly taking a step back.  
“I worry about him. Constantly.”  
John raised an eyebrow. He certainly didn’t sound concerned.  
“I would prefer if my concern went unmentioned. We have what you’d call a difficult relationship.”  
John’s phone buzzed again. 

If inconvenient, come anyway.  
SH

“No.” John said sternly.  
The boy chuckled mirthlessly.  
“You’re very loyal, very quickly.”  
“No, I’m just not interested. Don’t exactly like being bribed. Look, I have to go.” John added after realising his cheek could very well get him beaten up, and this boy seemed more than able.  
John turned around, and walked away, sure not to walk too fast.  
“Evening, John Watson.”  
John turned back, but the mysterious boy had disappeared. He shuddered, and ran off in search of a bus stop.


	2. 221b Baker Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John visits Sherlock at 221b Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this!

John arrived outside the house addressed 221b Baker Street. He hesitantly walked up to the door, and knocked. A woman opened the door. John tried his best to hide his confusion. She was too old to be sherlock’s mother, possibly his grandmother. She had shoulder length brown hair, and kind, hazel eyes, laughter lines surrounding them.   
“Hello... is Sherlock here...?”   
“Oh, you must be John! Come in, come in.”   
She ushered him indoors, and instructed him to wipe his feet.   
“He’s upstairs. I’ll bring you both some snacks in a little bit.”   
“Thanks.”   
John looked up the flight of stairs before wandering up them. There was a closed door, like a front door, at the top of the stairs. John pushed it open slowly. It was a decent sized room with a desk, a chair, and a sofa, which was currently occupied by Sherlock. He was sprawled out on the leather, his hands clasped in front of his face.   
“Hey.”  
“Hello.” Sherlock said, not moving.   
“Is this your house?” John asked, wandering around the room.   
“No. The woman who let you in owns it.”   
“Oh. Who is she?”   
“She’s my childminder. Well, she used to be. She lets me hang out up here.”   
“Oh, I see.”   
“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked, finally sitting up.   
“How can you tell something’s wrong?”  
“Your tone is slightly nervy, the pitch of your voice is raised, you keep moving your hands, and looking around you. You’re worried. Somebody made you worried. Obviously.”   
“Of course. Stupid question.” John mumbled, thrusting his hands into his pockets.   
“So, who approached you?” Sherlock asked, his hands pressed together in front of his face.   
“Some older boy from our school. He was really creepy.”   
“Did he ask you to ‘keep an eye on me’?”   
“Yes. That’s weird, right?”   
“For him... no. Let me guess, he tried to bribe you?” Sherlock muttered, running his hands through his ebony locks.   
“He did!”  
“What did you say?”   
“I said no, obviously.” John quipped, grinning when Sherlock noticed he’d used his ‘catchphrase’.   
“You should have said yes. That way if we got in trouble, I could throw you under the bus, or get him to do both of our homework. Next time, think things through.”   
John paused for a moment, tilting his head in contemplation.   
“Who is he?”   
“The most dangerous boy you’ve ever met, and one who has the potential to become the most dangerous man in the country.” Sherlock said this calmly, his icy eyes locking with johns.   
He decided against asking anymore questions, and Just nodded along.   
There was a knock at the door, and Sherlock crossed the room in three long strides.   
“Thank you Mrs Hudson.”   
“It’s alright dear. But I’m only doing this once. Just remember, I’m not you’re childminder anymore.”   
Sherlock shrugged, and took the plate of cookies from her.   
“It’s only cos he never has friends over, or dates-“   
“Oh, this isn’t a date.” John blurted out quickly.  
Mrs Hudson quirked an eyebrow, seemingly not believing him.   
“Thank you. For the cookies.” He said, wanting to change the subject.   
“That’s alright dear. Now, Sherlock, is John staying for dinner?”   
“Are you?” Sherlock asked, looking over to the blonde.   
“Umm... I guess. If that’s ok?”   
“Course it is.” Sherlock said.   
“I was asking Mrs Hudson. I’m assuming she’ll be the one doing the cooking?”   
Mrs Hudson smiled broadly at John, then turned to regard the lanky teenager who had propped himself against the kitchen door.   
“This one? Cooking? He can’t even make toast.”   
John chuckled turning to look at the boy in question.   
“Oh, do leave me alone Mrs Hudson.”   
Sherlock muttered taking a bite of a cookie.   
“Could I have some chocolate milk?”   
Mrs Hudson raised an eyebrow at him.   
“Please.”   
“Of course you can, sweetheart. John?”  
“Yes please.”   
She left the two boys alone in silence while John texted his mother to say where he was. After a few minutes, John eventually broke the silence.   
“So... that girl, Molly...”  
“Yes?”   
“Is she your girlfriend?” John asked, not that he cared.   
“No.”   
“Do you have a girlfriend?”   
Still didn’t care.   
“Girlfriends are not really my area.”   
Oh. That’s interesting. Not that John cared.   
“Boyfriend?”   
John furrowed his eyebrows after asking, wondering why he cared about sherlock’s relationships.   
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him, cocking his head.   
“I mean that’s ok-“  
“I know it’s ok.” Sherlock answered rather too quickly.   
He hoped John didn’t notice. John did.   
“So you’re unattached. Just like me. Good.”   
John immediately regretted that. He really had to learn to filter what he said.   
Sherlock tilted his head again, kinda like a puppy, and batted his long eye lashes at John, clearly trying to figure out what John meant by that.   
“I just meant that you’re not going to ditch me for some girl. Or boy. I don’t really have any other friends.”   
“You and I are friends?” Sherlock asked after a moment.   
“Yeah... at least, I thought so. I mean, we are hanging out.”   
“Oh. Does that make us friends?”   
John looked Sherlock up and down, then settled on his eyes. Sherlock had very nice eyes. They were so pale, and piercing that John felt as though he may be able to stare into his soul. He realised he was staring, and hadn’t blinked for about 10 seconds. He compensated for this by blinking four times, then adverting his gaze to the floor.   
“Yeah, I guess. Why, do you not want to be friends?”   
“No, it’s not that. I’m just unfamiliar with the formalities.”   
Sherlock wasn’t looking when John looked up to him again.   
“Have you ever had a friend?”   
Sherlock remained quiet for a moment, which lead John to believe he had offended him. John began drafting an apology when Sherlock answered.   
“No.”   
John was about to say something else when Mrs Hudson barged into the room.   
“Here you are! Sorry it took so long; your mother phoned, Sherlock dear.”  
“What did she want?” Sherlock asked before dropping back in to the leather arm chair by the fire place.   
“She wanted to know where you were. You really need to start telling her things like that.”   
The teen rolled his eyes, and swivelled round in his chair so he was laying on his back, his long, skinny legs spilling over the arm of the chair.   
“I told her you wouldn’t be home for dinner, because you had a... friend over.”   
John noticed the pause, and if Sherlock did, it didn’t register on his face.   
“She didn’t believe me, but I managed to convince her.”   
Sherlock glared at the babbling woman, his nostrils flaring. John couldn’t help but notice he looked like a pissed off rabbit.   
“I’ll leave you boys in peace.”   
She disappeared once again down the stairs.   
“So... what do you do for fun?” John asked, settling on the sofa.   
“I write a blog.”   
“Really? What about?”   
“The science of deduction. That’s what it’s about, and it’s title. Just in case you were interested.”   
“Yeah, I’ll check it out.” John said, with the full intention of internet stalking Sherlock extensively.   
Sherlock guessed he should probably ask John the same question.   
“What do you do for fun?”  
“I play football, and I’m in the scouts. We do a lot of stuff like camping, and fire lighting.”   
Normally when sherlock asked people about their lives he zoned out, and their responses ended up resembling the noise packman made when he died, but he actually listened to John.   
“That sounds resourceful. If there is an apocalypse, I’ll want you on my side.”   
John grinned at this, glad he had managed to have some impression on the curly haired teen.   
“Boys! Dinner!”   
Sherlock followed John down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Mrs Hudson had laid out spaghetti.   
“You can wash your hands there, and the tea towels are on the counter.”   
Both boys did as instructed, then sat down next to one another at the table. They ate their food while exchanging standard conversation, with a few odd questions, such as how many minutes do you reckon it would take for an eyeball to explode in a microwave. Mrs Hudson told Sherlock that was not appropriate for the dinner table, which left him sulking for a good few minutes. She later added it wasn’t appropriate to ask anyone no matter their location. John didn’t help by answering, guessing around 2 minutes. Sherlock then presented his findings, as it turned out the question was not hypothetical. Sherlock kept squirming in his chair, which meant his knees kept knocking against the table, making the plates jump. John realised that Sherlock was definitely unintentionally funny, but it made him laugh regardless. John went home later his mind and heart both consumed by the curly haired boy.


	3. Is this friendship? I think so!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock spend the day together, and have some quality bonding time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Thank you for the comments, I love reading them. Xxx  
> (Who liked the friends reference in the title?)

John was stood in front of the mirror trying to decide how to wear his hair. He’d changed outfits six times before deciding on a green v neck jumper, and dark blue jeans. He flipped his hair to the right, then the left, the spiked it, then combed it down. He eventually settled on wearing it combed to the side, holding it fast with gel. He tried to use some of the body spray he’d been given at Christmas, and ended up choking on it. John was hoping his mother wouldn’t notice that he’d put in some effort when getting ready, and start asking questions. Thankfully, his mother didn’t have Sherlock’s talents, and hardly noticed John was even downstairs. She was the least observant person on earth.  
“Mum, I’m off out.”  
“Oh, already?”  
His mum came bustling into the hallway, her knitting clutched in her hands, undoubtedly another scarf or hat for Harry, which would be tossed into her wardrobe, and never seen again. John’s mum was a short, blonde woman on the plump side, with bright green eyes and rosy cheeks, which were often stained with tears, his sister’s doing. Harry had been at the drink since she got her first fake ID at 15. Some days she was perfectly fine, and was relatively content. Those were the days she was sober. Then there were the days she would drink herself to sleep. She would hurl abuse, throw things, and lock herself in her room for hours on end. Then of course there were days when she wasn’t there at all. She could disappear for days, then tumble back through the door, reeking of vodka, without so much as a simple explanation. It tore his mother to pieces. It wasn’t exactly easy for him either. They used to be close. She used to look after him, and watch out for him. Now, she acted like he wasn’t even there. John quickly pushed these thoughts aside, desperate for his mother not to notice the tears brimming in his eyes.  
“Make sure you wear a coat.”  
John rolled his eyes, but put the coat on regardless. It was a short walk to Sherlock’s house, one in which he still had time to panic over all the things that could go wrong. By the time he’d got to number 59 on his list, he had arrived at the address. He hesitated for a moment before gingerly knocking on the door. A woman answered. This time, it was defiantly Sherlock’s mother. The resemblance was uncanny, except she was blonde, with softer features, unlike Sherlock with his raven locks, and sharp cheekbones.  
“You must be John. Come in. Sherlock is in the living room, if you want to go through.”  
“Thanks.”  
John smiled, which Sherlock’s mother happily returned before ushering him through into the living room. John couldn’t help but notice how normal Sherlock’s mother seemed in contrast to her two sons, who were both neurotic to say the least.  
“He’s been watching for you out the window.”  
John couldn’t help his heart surge at the thought of Sherlock waiting for him. Said boy was sat on the arm chair in the corner of the room by the window, a book in hand. He turned his head to look at John, then quickly over to his mother, narrowing his eyes at her.  
“Ok, I have housework to do, but if you want to download a film, or something let me know. I can make you some snacks, drinks-“  
“Mother.” Sherlock muttered, clearly desperate for her to leave.  
“Sorry. I just get excited. He’s never had a friend over before.”  
He glared at her again, before burying his head in his hands.  
“Alright, Alright. I’m going.”  
She gave John a smile, then disappeared behind the door.  
“Sorry about her. Can’t control her emotions.”  
“Not like you then.” John mused.  
Sherlock shrugged in agreement, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly.  
“I’m a high functioning sociopath, so... anyway, what do you want to do?” He asked after a moment of silence, getting up from his chair.  
“I don’t know. It’s your house, you pick.”  
“Alright. We could go to my room.”  
John couldn’t pretend he wasn’t desperate to see what Sherlock’s room looked like.  
“Come on then.”  
John eagerly followed the taller teenager into the hall, and up the stairs. There were four doors along the corridor. The furthest one along had a sign that read ‘consider whether what you need is worth knocking for.’ John guessed this was Sherlock’s room. Sherlock moved around him to open the the door, brushing up against John as he did. Sherlock stood aside to allow John through, then closed the door behind them. There was a single bed, unmade, a desk, it’s surface scattered with papers, a few clothes here and there, and a collection of odd items strewn about, such as deer antlers, and conical flasks. They were kinda hard to miss.  
“Cool room.”  
“Thanks. Sorry about the mess.”  
“It’s cool.”  
Sherlock wandered around the room, picking up papers and clothes from the floor, and chucking them into a corner.  
“Sit.” Sherlock instructed, gesturing to his desk chair.  
Sherlock settled down opposite on his bed, tucking his legs under himself.  
“So, What do you want to do?”  
“I’m not sure.”  
“Ummm... we could watch YouTube. Do you have a laptop?”  
“I do indeed.”  
Sherlock jumped up from the bed, and reached across John to uncover his laptop from a stack of papers.  
“What do you want to watch?”  
“Have you seen ASDF?”  
“What’s that?”  
“I’ll take that as a no.”  
John got up from the chair, took the laptop from Sherlock, and typed into the search engine. He sat down at the edge of the bed, the laptop resting on his thighs. He clicked on the video, and turned the laptop so Sherlock could see. Said curly haired boy leaned in closer so he could see, only a few inches away from John.  
The videos were cartoons of stick men like figures in black and white, with bad puns, and slapstick comedy. Sherlock found them rather amusing, although most of his laughter was caused by John, who giggled, yes giggled, at nearly every clip. After they’d watched all 11, they were both out of breath from laughing. They collapsed backwards on Sherlock’s bed, still giggling and wheezing. Sherlock turned to look at John, who had his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. He looked so wonderful when he was laughing. Sherlock wanted to be the one to make him laugh. John turned to face him, tears of joy brimming in his eyes.  
“Oh, god. I can’t breath!” John wheezed, clapping his hand to his chest.  
“Me neither.”  
John finally calmed down, his breathing steadied. His eyes wandered over Sherlock’s face, taking in his catlike eyes, his sharp nose, pale lips, and the little dimples in his cheeks as he grinned. He was so close if John moved about an inch their noses would be touching. If he moved two, their lips would be too.  
“Boys! Lunch!”  
They both broke free of their trance, and quickly jumped up from the bed. John trailed behind Sherlock into the kitchen where Sherlock’s mother stood taking a pizza from the oven. They washed their hands, then happily sat down to eat.  
“Ah, Sherlock has a play date. That’s never happened.”  
John’s head whipped up, his eyes landing on the tall, wiry figure leaning against the doorframe.  
“Oh, Mycroft, leave him alone.”  
Their mother shot him a look of disapproval, but he chose not to notice.  
“Nice to see you, John.”  
“Ditto.” John said, quickly picking up his orange juice, hoping the glass would hide his quivering lip.  
“It’s nice to see him have company.” Mycroft paused before settling on that word, raising his eyebrows at Sherlock.  
Said boy had hardly noticed his brother’s presence, and was nibbling at his pizza crust, completely ignoring the scene playing out before him, not even bothering to look up.  
“I hope my brother is managing to entertain you.”  
Sherlock, as John observed, was now watching Mycroft out of the corner of his eye.  
“He’s doing just fine.”  
“As I’m sure many others, himself included, have informed you of his lack of practice at entertaining guests.”  
“Oh, piss off, Mycroft.”  
“Sherlock!” Mrs Holmes snapped. “Not at the dinner table.” She instructed, thwacking the younger boy with a tea towel as gently as one can thwack someone. “Swear at him all you like later.”  
This made John chuckle, which earn’t him an eye roll from Mycroft.  
“Mycroft, are you going to eat anything?”  
Mrs Holmes turned to regard her eldest son, who had since moved off the doorframe and was hovering by the fruit bowl.  
“No, I’m quite alright, thank you. I’ll be fine with an Apple.”  
He tossed the item into the air, then caught it in between his long fingers.  
“John.” He curtly nodded his head, then sauntered back down the hall, and disappeared up the stairs.  
“Pay no attention to him. He’s on a diet. Makes him moody.”  
“Oh, please. He’s always been moody. Even when he was chubby. The diet just makes him worse. Who knew that was possible...” Sherlock muttered, popping an olive into his mouth.  
“He’s as skinny as a rake though.” John said to no one in particular.  
“He’s trying to keep the weight off. Puberty, natural fat burner. Went from being a hippo to a beanpole over night.”  
“Sherlock.” His mother warned curtly, although it was clear she was holding back laughter at the expression.  
Sherlock was correct, up to a point. Mycroft had always been a chubby child, but after a massive growth spurt, he’d seemingly been stretched out like play dough, and had dropped all the weight.  
The boys finished off lunch, then went back upstairs to watch more videos. They got quite loud with their laughter, which resulted in Mycroft, who’s room was next door, banging on the wall for them to shut up. On one occasion, he’d come into the room, and ordered them to ‘cease the ruckus’, or he’d tell on them to their mother. This resulted in Sherlock giving him the finger, and the older teen slamming the door in despair, muttering to himself about how younger brothers were surly minions of Satan himself. This of course only made the boys laugh more. It seemed sherlock’s favourite thing to do, bedsides freaking people out with his deductions, was pissing of his brother. The older boy had eventually given up, and gone to the library to escape the shrill giggles of john and Sherlock. At 16:00, John had to go home to get ready for football. It was fair to say John was off his game, his mind completely occupied by thoughts of the dark haired boy, with his mystical eyes, sharp cheekbones, and why he made John feel all giddy.


	4. Rose of the Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock struggles with jealousy. John is oblivious as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Thanks for the comments! :)

Sherlock had been looking forward to school for one of the first days in a long time. He actually had a friend. He had people he considered friendly acquaintances, and although he didn’t mind their company, he wouldn’t seek them out. John was different.  
“Say hello to your little friend for me, won’t you?”  
Sherlock turned to see Mycroft lent up against his doorframe. He was basically a cat, always sauntering around, and inviting himself in places.  
“Don’t you have some pies to stare at longingly? Get out of my room.”  
“Technically I’m not in your room.” Mycroft sneered.  
“And yet this door will still hit you in the face.”  
Sherlock swung the door shut with enough vigour to kick Mycroft out of the way with a yelp.  
After getting ready in peace, Sherlock wandered down into the kitchen.  
“You look nice dear.” His mother cooed upon seeing him.  
Most mothers would assume he was trying to impress somebody, but Sherlock wasn’t most children, so his mother said nothing more of it. Unfortunately Mycroft had all too much to say on the matter, much like most matters, whether they concerned him or not.  
“A popular opinion nowadays, so I hear.”  
Sherlock turned to glare at his older brother who smirked in response.  
“What was that darling?”  
“Nothing. He said nothing.”  
Mycroft was seemingly amused with this reaction, and left the goading for another day.  
Sherlock caught sight of John as soon as he entered school. He was talking to a blonde girl, and she was laughing. Sherlock stalked over to them, an uncomfortable nagging feeling in his stomach.  
“Oh, hey Sherlock. This is Rosamund.” John said gesturing to the blonde.  
“Your shirt is buttoned wrong.” Sherlock said, his eyes scanning johns midsection.  
Johns eyes locked with his before shifting to Rosamund.  
“Sherlock.” He said through gritted teeth. “Say hello.”  
“Hello.” Sherlock said, smiling falsely before turning back to the other boy. “You left in a hurry. Late night study session.”  
He noted the faint words in pen on johns cheek where he’d fallen asleep on his notes, and the sleepy dust in the corners of his eye.  
John raised his eyebrows, but didn’t voice how he felt about this, and instead just re-buttoned his shirt.  
“You’re a friend of Molly’s.” Sherlock addressed the blonde girl.  
“Yes I am. She talks about you all the time.”  
“Does She now?”  
“Anyway, Rosamund, you were saying?” John blurted.  
“Rosie, please. But, I was saying you could come and sit with me- I mean us... at lunch.”  
Sherlock frowned at this. John would sit with him, wouldn’t he?  
“Yeah, Alright.”  
The bell rang before Sherlock had a chance to blurt out anything. He walked away, but remained in earshot for a moment. “Is He you’re boyfriend?” Rosie asked, not unkindly. She would settle for friends, and wouldn’t intervene. “What?” Did it seem like there was something between them? Were other people seeing something? “I’m not gay.” Rosie shrugged. “Sorry about him, by the way.” “Don’t be. I like him.” Unfortunately, Sherlock had walked away after he heard John apologising for his behaviour, and missed Rosie’s response. He spent most of his morning staring at the table wondering why his heart hurt. At lunch, John was sat with the blonde girl, Rosa, Romeo, Robbert, or something like that. Sherlock marched over to the table, and sat down next to john. John didn’t seem to notice, and carried on avidly conversing with the girl. The curly haired boy not so subtly cleared his throat to get the other teen’s attention.  
“Oh, hey Sherlock.”  
“Hello, Sherlock.” Rose or whatever said, waving at the brunette.  
“Hello. John, we have to go to chemistry early.”  
“What? Why?” The blonde asked, his brows furrowed.  
“Lestrard made a mistake on question three in the homework, and I need to tell him.”  
“So I need to come with you to watch you be an arrogant prick to our teacher?”  
Sherlock paused for a moment, wondering why johns facial expression implied that his request was not a reasonable one.  
“Yes.”  
“Go on. I’ll catch you later.” Richard said, nudging the blond’s shoulder.  
He sighed before nodding his head with a chuckle.  
“Alright. Come on then, Sherlock.”  
Lestrard simply shrugged off Sherlock’s complaints, and assured the boy he’d be more vigilant in future. For the past few days, the boys would walk down to the coffee shop and have a drink together before parting ways to go home. At the end of the day, Sherlock had lost sight of John. He finally found him talking to ruby.  
“John, coffee?” Sherlock asked rather hopefully.  
“Um, I’m gonna walk Rosie home actually, but we’ll go tomorrow ok?”  
“Oh. Ok” Sherlock tried to hide the hurt in his voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
He turned on his heal before John could have the chance to respond.


	5. The invite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John invites Sherlock over for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I have a saucy chapter planned. Comment if you’d like me to publish it tonight :)

Sherlock had been prepared for another day of being ignored, that’s pretty much how every other day of his life had gone, but John ran up to greet him at the gates.   
“Hey, you ok?”   
“Fine.” The brunette responded curtly, too busy looking around to see if the blonde girl had tagged along. He caught sight of her talking to Molly a few yards away. She waved, but didn’t come over.   
“Sherlock? Are you listening?”   
“No.” Sherlock said, looking at the two girls conversing.   
“Well, I appreciate your honesty. I asked you if you wanted to come over tomorrow?”  
The blue eyed boy looked down at his companion, eyebrows raised. John still wanted to hang out with him.   
“Yes, Alright. Thank you for the invitation.”   
John grinned, his front teeth biting down on his bottom lip.   
Sherlock forced himself to look away, his cheeks flushed red, and started walking towards the school doors.


	6. A sticky situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a dirty dream about John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is badly written smut, as it’s all in Sherlock’s head, and he’s an inexperienced little baby.

Johns lips were on his, desperately kissing him, thrusting his tongue in and out of his mouth. His hips were rolling against his, grinding down on him. John wanted him, he needed him. The hard, generous appendage between his leg advertised this. Next, his lips were on his neck, sucking and biting on his alabaster skin, leaving dark purple bruises. Sherlock was moaning as his neck was abused, his head thrown back in bliss. John moved his hands down sherlock’s body, and pulled his shirt over his head. The blond begun trailing kisses down his chest, drawing moans of appreciation from the other boy.   
Soon, Sherlock’s trousers and underwear were gone too. He was completely naked in front of John. There was an odd sort of thrill to it as John drank him in with hungry eyes. John ducked his head, and kissed Sherlock’s hipbone. His pelvis tilted upwards, a small moan escaping him. He watched as johns lips travelled further down his body until they were at the tip of his throbbing length. Johns eyes locked with his in asking. After Sherlock’s nod, the older boy shot him a wink, then wrapped his mouth around his cock.   
“Oh god...”   
John began moving his mouth up and down sherlock’s length, humming gently. The brunette felt a pressure building in his abdomen.   
“John...I...I think I’m close...”  
This only spurred him on, and increased his pace. This pushed Sherlock over the edge. He emptied ropes of salty, white liquid into John’s mouth, all of which he swallowed willingly. Sherlock fell back onto the bed, exhausted. John moved up the bed, and curled up beside him.   
“Thank you, John.” He breathed heavily.   
John leaned over, and pressed a kiss to his temple.   
“I love you, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock woke the next morning feeling very uncomfortable. His trousers were wet, and sticky. He lifted his covers and pyjama bottoms to see copious amounts of creamy, sticky fluid. A blush spread to his cheeks as he realised what had happened. He’d had a wet dream about John. He sat in silence for a moment in confusion. He’d never even had a wet dream before, never mind about the boy he considered his best, Well, only friend. He awkwardly shuffled to the bathroom, preying that neither of his parents or Mycroft would choose this moment to leave their rooms. He stood in the shower just letting the water wash over him as his thoughts ran wild. There was no doubt that he had feelings for John, he couldn’t deny that any longer. He didn’t like to feel things. He cleansed his body of the drying fluid that covered his thighs and abdomen, then scuttled back to his room wrapped in a towel warmed by the radiator. He got dressed, then stared at himself in the mirror to give himself a pep talk. Be normal. Be normal. This was essential if he ever wanted to be invited back to john’s house. He tried to put the situation he’d found himself in that morning out of his head, along with the dream that put him there. He also decided he wasn’t going to wonder about the relationship that may or may not be forming between John and Rachel, or whatever her name was. He was very good at distancing himself from his feelings. He got on with his day regardless. He’d sauntered down the stairs, made himself some tea and cereal, told Mycroft to fuck off when he asked if Sherlock was planning on taking John out on a date, and managed to escape the house before his mother could fuss over him. He arrived at school before John, who showed up some ten minutes later, his hair unkempt, and bags under his eyes. Clearly he’d over slept. Again. Sherlock quickly deduced he’d been left to his own devices, and his mother had gone out. His clothes hadn’t been ironed, and he’d heard about how johns mother had once ironed his shoelaces. There is now way she’d let him out like that, never mind oversleep.   
“Where’s your mother?”   
“What? I’m 15, I don’t need my mother to drop me at sch-“   
“No, I mean, where was she last night, slash this morning?”   
John hesitated, batting his eyelashes at Sherlock, shifting his weight between his feet.   
“She umm... went out looking for my sister.”   
Sherlock looked down at John, who had curled in on himself, his normal broad shoulders slouched, making him appear smaller than he was.   
“Looking for her... oh. Did she find her?”   
Sherlock asked, not sure whether he should drop the subject or not.   
“No, not yet.”   
“John, if you don’t want me to come over...”  
“No!”   
Sherlock tried to act as though he wasn’t offended, although he definitely felt as though John had just punched him right in the chest. In a way, he had.   
“Oh, god. No, I mean, no, of course I still want you to come.”   
Sherlock perked up at this, a small smile forming on his face.   
They began wandering down the corridor, down to geography which they had together.   
“Does this happen a lot?” Sherlock asked as they slipped passed the chemistry lab, where lestrade was no doubt waiting to corner them.   
“I guess.”   
“You’re always welcome to stay with me if things at home get too... unpleasant.”   
John looked up at Sherlock with his big, grey eyes, a few strands of blond hair falling into them. Hasn’t had his haircut in approximately seven weeks. His mother hasn’t had time to take him. She doesn’t have time for him full stop.   
“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks.”   
Sherlock felt his insides go all squishy, and his knees go weak when John smiled at him. He hated it. He returned the smile, then continued down the corridor with John following close behind.


	7. Harriet watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock visits John, and meets his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this. Not long till John caves...  
> Thank you for the comments! Xxx

School was mediocre. Sherlock had been waiting for john at lunch time, turning down an invitation from Molly to sit with her and her friends. Molly, he could tolerate. It was her friends he couldn’t stand. Nearly all their stories started with ‘so me and and my boyfriend.’  
It should be ‘my boyfriend and I.’  
Honestly. He wouldn’t allow himself to like Rosie. Although she seemed very clever, and interesting, she was a threat. John liked her, and she could take him away. Sherlock was more than happy when johns told her he couldn’t walk her home as he and had plans with the cynical brunette. Sherlock and John walked over to the latter’s house exchanging chit chat, but Sherlock could tell John was tense. John fumbled around for his keys for a moment, and after successfully getting the door open, invited Sherlock inside. Sherlock quickly made his deductions within about five seconds. John lived with his mother and sister, neither of whom were in judged by the lack of women’s coats. Johns father was out of the picture, figuratively and literally. He wasn’t in any of the pictures in the hall, or the living room. He hadn’t died, he’d left. Johns mother had a good job, which was how she’d managed to keep such a nice house on one pay cheque. It would have to be a large one to live here. She worked long hours, and was often not home for dinner. The number of take out menus on the fridge led him to believe John was often on his own. He decided to keep all these thoughts to himself. John could practically see the cogs turning in his head, and just stared at him in awe.  
“Well, What do you want to do?”  
“I don’t know. You pick, it’s your house.” Sherlock said, quoting John.  
John grinned, and rolled his eyes before shuffling past Sherlock to take off his coat and bag.  
“You can take your coat off too, you know.”  
Sherlock snapped his attention back to the blond who had settled himself down on the sofa, who’s cushions seemed to swallow him up. The tall teenager removed the blue black coat from his shoulders, and tentatively placed it on the arm chair behind him. Sherlock opted for sitting on the sofa with John, and soon discovered that the cushions also wanted to eat him.  
“Your sofa is weird.”  
“Yeah, I know. You wouldn’t believe how many remotes it’s eaten.” John chuckled, running his hand through his blond tresses.  
“You want to order something for tea?” John asked after a moment, turning to look at Sherlock.  
“Alright.”  
John got up to grab the landline phone, then called up the Chinese take out place on the corner.  
“So, What do you want to be when you grow up?”  
“I don’t know. I used to want to be a pirate, but...” Sherlock said, shrugging his shoulders.  
“Really? I used to play pirates.”  
“I think it’s a fairly common game played among young children.”  
John nodded, turning his attention back to the tv.  
“I still have the swords.” John said, eyes still on the television. “We can have a sword fight if you want.”  
They turned to look at each other, a smirk playing at the corner of Johns lips. Five minutes later, Sherlock and John were fighting down johns staircase with two wooden swords. John had a bandana tied around his head, and Sherlock had a pirates hat balanced atop his unruly curls.  
“This is the best idea we’ve ever had!” John exclaimed as he jumped off the bottom step.  
“I’d argue it’s the best we’ve had today, not overall.”  
“Don’t be such a pedant!”  
Sherlock chased John into the living room, stopping abruptly when he saw the blond had jumped on to the coffee table and was now slightly taller.  
“Is this what it’s like to be you?” John asked, clattering the weapon into Sherlock’s.  
“It is indeed.”  
Sherlock jumped on to the table, returning the height difference back to normal. The space between them was smaller now, so there was hardly any space to avoid getting hit. John made one false move, and fell onto Sherlock, knocking the taller boy on to the floor. John had closed his eyes during the fall, and when he reopened them, he was staring into Sherlock’s. He was about a centimetre away from his face, their noses nearly touching. Sherlock was so close to John he could smell his minty toothpaste, the strong scent of his shampoo, and the rich scent of his body spray. He could kiss him if he wanted to, which of course he did want to, but what would John do? Would he push him away? Would he yell at him, and scream? Would he stop being friends with him? He couldn’t risk that. He stayed put, and just stared into johns eyes, not knowing John was thinking the same thing. Sherlock could help but think back to his dream, his blood flowing south as the imagery swam round his head. He tilted his pelvis to the side, and was only all too great full when the blond slowly got up, and pulled him to his feet. The silence forming between them was broken by the doorbell.  
“That’ll Be dinner. I’ll go open the door, and you know, get the food... for us to eat.” John muttered, slipping past Sherlock to open the door.  
Sherlock stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure whether John was mad at him or not. The pair ate their dinner, the atmosphere clearly having changed. There was a lot of unspoken tension, questions, and answers floating in the air. Although all the topics were brought about by Sherlock, John was more than happy to respond. The distance between the pair had increased, and were sat on either ends of the sofa instead of in the middle, another sign of the awkward situation. John put the telly on again, a sitcom about a police department. Sherlock found the jokes and humour rather enjoyable, and did his best to pay attention.  
After about ten minutes, the front door opened. John visibly tensed, his body clearly experiencing the fight or flight response. Sherlock assumed it was his mother, and his sister, judging by the second set of footsteps.  
“John, are you home?” A woman’s voice called from the hall.  
“Yes.” John replied, his voice higher, and quieter than normal.  
“Are you Alright?”  
John turned to face the brunette, a look of worry on his face.  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”  
This was a lie.  
Johns mother appeared in the doorway, her eyes falling on the pair.  
“Mum.”  
John got up, and went to her side.  
“Hello, dear.”  
Her voice was horse, she’d been crying, possibly screaming.  
“Where’s Harry?”  
“She’s gone upstairs. Not feeling well.”  
“Not surprised. She hasn’t been home since Friday.” John mumbled, which earned him a sharp glare from his mother.  
“Who’s this, darling?” She asked, gesturing to Sherlock, who was sat on the sofa, trying to take up as little space as possible.  
“This is Sherlock. He’s a friend from school. I told you I invited him.”  
“Oh, yes of course.”  
Sherlock stood up abruptly, realising now was probably the time for niceties, and small talk. Ugh.  
“Hello Mrs Watson.”  
Sherlock extended his hand to shake hers, doing his best to smile.  
“Hello, Sherlock. What an interesting name.”  
“Yes, well my parents are rather interesting to say the least, although their preferred term is eclectic.” Sherlock murmured, flashing his boyish grin.  
Mrs Watson chuckled, his softened exterior and charm working on her. She was in her late forties, a natural blonde, but now had to dye it to hide the grey, had a job in the city, was an only child, and had divorced no fewer than five years ago.  
“You have a lovely home. Very stylish.”  
John raised an eye at the usually blunt, and brutal teen. Even Sherlock thought he may have been laying it on a bit thick, but it seemed to be working.  
“I see you boys have eaten.” Mrs Watson said, looking at the plates on the coffee table.  
“Yes, there are left overs for you and harry in the fridge. If she can be bothered to come down here.” John said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.  
Sherlock helped John clear up the plates, then they awkwardly stood in the kitchen as Mrs Watson put some food and a drink on a tray, presumably to take up to Harry. They moved back into the living room after she went upstairs, and sat down together. John had curled up in the corner of the sofa, and was staring at the wall, his eyes completely glazed over.  
“John? Are you alright?”  
John snapped out of his daze, and turned to look at the brunette, who was regarding him with his piercing, puppy dog eyes.  
“I’m fine.”  
“You don’t sound-“ “I said I’m fine!” John snapped. Sherlock recoiled a bit, curling in on himself. A scream from upstairs had them both jump to their feet, and run out into the hallway.  
“Mum?!”  
John raced up the stairs where Sherlock lost sight of him. John ran into Harry’s room, where he saw his mother knelt on the floor, cradling Harry’s head in her lap.  
“Mum, what’s happened?”  
His mother looked up to him, her eyes bloodshot, tears flowing freely down her face.  
“I found her like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” She wailed, stroking Harry’s forehead.  
John crouched down beside her, and placed his fingers on Harry’s pulse point.  
“She’s alive, but you need to call an ambulance. Now, Mum!” John yelled, moving his sister to the floor, and putting her in the recovery position. Mrs Watson was hyperventilating, and appeared unresponsive.  
“Mum! Damnit. Sherlock! Get up here!”  
The curly haired teen ran up the stairs upon hearing his name, and tumbled into Harry’s room.  
“John?”  
“Call an ambulance!”  
Sherlock nodded, and ran out into the hallway where he spotted the phone on top of a cabinet. He called for an ambulance, then went back into Harry’s room.  
“Can you calm her down?” John asked, pointing over to his mother.  
Sherlock nodded, and knelt down beside the trembling woman.  
“Mrs Watson, I need you to look at me.” Sherlock said as softly as he could. “John is taking care of Harry, and an ambulance is going to be here any minute. She’s going to be ok. I promise you. Neither of us is going to let anything happen. She may be unconscious, but you need to be strong for her. You need to be strong for John.”  
The blond raised his head at then mention of his name, and smiled weakly at Sherlock. When Sherlock looked back at Mrs Watson, she had snapped out of her daze, and was looking at both of her children.  
“Ok.” She said quietly, nodding her head in understanding.  
“John, I’m going to go downstairs to flag down the ambulance. Try not to yell at your mother.”  
The ambulance arrived a minute or two later, and paramedics were sent up to get Harry. Mrs Watson went in the ambulance, and the two boys were escorted in a paramedic car that followed behind. The staff suggested Sherlock went home, but he’d insisted on going too. John looked relieved at this, and clearly appreciated the act. They’d been sat in a waiting room for nearly an hour. John hadn’t said anything since they’d got there. Mrs Watson had been taken aside by the hospital staff in an attempt to treat her shock, then taken to wherever Harry was. Sherlock wasn’t sure how he was meant to help, but he knew if he didn’t say anything, he couldn’t make things any worse.  
“Thank you, Sherlock.”  
They curly haired brunette looked over to John, who was looking at him with his big, grey orbs.  
“What for?”  
“For being there, really.” John shrugged. “You don’t have to be here, but here you are. I really appreciate it. And I’m sorry for shouting at you earlier.” Sherlock got the impression that John didn’t apologise often. “I’ll go get us some coffee, ok?”  
“Ok. Milk, no sugar. Thanks.”  
Sherlock nodded, then set off in search of a cafeteria. He passed a sobbing Mrs Watson along the way, head in hands, bag clutched to her chest behind her elbows.  
“Mrs Watson?”  
She lifted her head, her face stained with tears, her mascara running down her cheeks.  
“Oh, Sherlock.”  
She quickly wiped her face with the heal of her hands, although it didn’t really make much of a difference.  
“I’m so sorry about all this. I’m sure you and John had a lovely day planned of playing video games, watching YouTube, and whatever else it is that you boys do.”  
“It’s quite alright, Mrs Watson.”  
“You seem so unfazed by all this.”  
Well, being a high functioning sociopath has its perks, he thought to himself, trying to prevent a chuckle from escaping his lips.  
“Yes well, sometimes you have to push your own feelings aside when someone else needs you to be strong.”  
She smiled weakly at him, sniffling a little.  
“How is John?”  
“He’s handling it well.”  
“He never talks to me anymore about his feelings. I never know what’s going on with him. Both my children shut me out.” She’d started crying again, quite mewls escaping her.  
“Mrs Watson, I think your son is a brilliant young man. He’s a wonderful friend, and one of the kindest people I know. Don’t worry about him.” Sherlock said softly, taking a seat down beside her. He was surprising himself at the words escaping his mouth, but they were certainly genuine.  
“Thank you, Sherlock. I’m so glad he has a friend like you.”  
Sherlock wasn’t sure what it was, but he found he felt sad at being called johns friend, but that’s what he was. That’s all he’d ever be. Sherlock cleared his thoughts, and focused on the matter at hand.  
“I was just going to get coffee. You look like you could benefit from some.”  
“Yes please dear. Thank you. Here, take some money.”  
Sherlock went to decline, but Mrs Watson all but forced the £10 note in to his hand.  
He departed, and disappeared down the halls. He ordered coffee, and bit his lip to keep himself from telling the girl behind the counter that her clearly drawn on eyebrows just made her look permanently quizzical. He gave Mrs Watson hers, then went back to John, who had taken up his usual past time of staring at the wall.  
“John?”  
The blond looked up at the other boy, and happily took the coffee from him.  
“Thanks. What took you so long?”  
Sherlock explained where he’d been, but left out the part where he’d given a speech on the wonder that his John Watson.  
“Thanks for comforting her. I know that’s not really your thing.”  
Of course, he was right.  
A doctor appeared down the corridor, a clipboard in hand, marching towards them. Late thirties, young children, ex smoker.  
“Mr Watson? Your sister has woken up. Your mother is with her now.”  
John and Sherlock both got up, and followed the doctor to where harry was being kept. On the bed lay a girl of about 19, same blonde hair as John, but with green eyes instead of grey. Her face was washed out, and there were remainders of makeup under her eyes, but she conformed to the desired, traditional beauty.  
“Mrs Watson, a word.”  
Mrs Watson placed a kiss on her daughters temple, smiled at both boys, then followed Harry’s doctor into the hall.  
“Ah, John. And who’s this?” She asked, her eyes falling on the slim brunette. “Oh, this must be Sherlock.”  
Sherlock nodded his head in acknowledgment.  
“I’m guessing you know who I am. I assure you, I make a much better impression when I’m not hooked up to a morphine drip.”  
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” John said bitterly, looking everywhere but his sister.  
“Ignore him. So, the infamous Sherlock Holmes. John talks about you all the time.”  
“How would you know? I never talk to you about anything.” John hissed, his hands curling into fists.  
Sherlock was too busy enjoying the notion that John talked about him to notice the two bickering siblings. As much as he adored John, this argument was very dull, and normal, unlike the arguments he and Mycroft had. Those were usually in debate on whether or not Mycroft was hypnotising their parents to like him better, or hacking into the CIA. Sherlock maintained that he was.  
“So, What was it this time? Passed out in a motel? In the train station? A drinking buddies house?”  
John was standing at the foot of Harry’s bed, steely eyes glaring at her, arms crossed in front of his chest. He was clearly annoyed, but also a little frightened of the consequences might be.  
“Don’t talk to me like that John.”  
“Like what?”  
“Like you’re better than me! That I’m some stupid little girl, who doesn’t understand the consequences of what she’s doing. It’s bad enough when Mum does it, but it’s just patronising when you do it.”  
“Then stop acting like a little girl! You’re supposed to be my big sister, but I’m always having to look after you!”  
Sherlock wasn’t sure what to do here. It was at this point in an argument where Mycroft would call him a worthless bundle of cells that could quite easily have been a cow instead of an irritating child. Sherlock would then say out of the two of them, Mycroft was clearly the cow, then their mother would come in, tell them to behave, and send them to their rooms. All three of them had failed to notice Mrs Watson and the doctor’s return to the room, and had witnessed quite a lot of the argument.  
“Mum isn’t brave enough to say this, but you need to stop this! It isn’t fair to anyone!”  
“John-“ Mrs Watson warned, placing a hand on johns shoulder. John flinched away, and backed away to Sherlock’s side of the room.  
“No, mum. This has gone too far! Look at her! She’s going to end up dead if she doesn’t stop!”  
“John, that’s enough.”  
John had been holding his fists so tightly his knuckles had gone white.  
“I’m so sorry about this, dr Whitehall. John, why don’t you take Sherlock home.”  
“John, I think that would be best.” Sherlock interjected before John could open his mouth, then gently placed his hands on his shoulders, and ushered the broad teen out of the room.  
“This is what she always does! Always gets herself in a state, and looks so pitiful you can’t tell her off! She gets away with everything!” John shouted, thumping his fist against a wall, then recoiling and wincing from the pain. Sherlock followed him out into a green, where his outburst would be less disruptive.  
“John, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself!” Sherlock yelled as the blond went to kick a rubbish bin.  
“You already have. Sit down.”  
Sherlock gestured to a bench, which John all but fell on to.  
“When she falls apart, she destroys everyone in her wake, and she doesn’t even care!”  
He sighed, and slumped back in the bench. “You know, I’ve run out of angry. I’m just ‘nothing’ at it now. I just-“ He made a sound of exasperation, and threw his hands up. “Sorry about all this.” He said, eyes refusing to meet Sherlock’s. “It’s ok. Sherlock said cautiously. “No, no it’s not.” “Alright. It’s not.” Sherlock places his hand on johns shoulder. “But it is what it is.”


	8. The sleep over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John stays over at Sherlock’s for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

John had eventually caved, and taken Sherlock up on the idea of staying with him. He didn’t dare go back home, so the pair had gone straight from the hospital, to Sherlock’s house. Sherlock felt a small sense of pride in that John trusted him, not Rosie, and it was his house John was staying at.  
“Mycroft’s not home, is he?” John asked cautiously as he followed Sherlock into the house.  
“You’re not scared of him are you?”  
Sherlock turned to face the blonde, eyebrows quirked in amusement.  
“No. He just gives me the creeps.”  
“Sure. But no, he’s not home. Door knocker’s to the side. He left before I went to school, and hasn’t been back since.”  
“How can you tell by the door knocker?”  
John asked as he took off his coat.  
“He has OCD. Always straightens it.”  
John followed Sherlock into the kitchen, and slumped down in a chair, completely drained.  
“Tea?”  
“Please.”  
John spun around in his chair, and lent on his hands as he watched Sherlock make tea, the way his muscles moved under his shirt, the way his curls fell over his eyes as he bent his head. When he reached up into the cupboards to get the tea, his shirt rose up, revealing the smallest sliver of pale, smooth skin just above his belt. John quickly adverted his gaze as he felt his cheeks heating up.  
“Here.”  
Sherlock placed a cup of tea in front of John along with a plate of biscuits.  
“Ginger nuts?” John asked, lifting up one of the biscuits.  
“Yes. They’re my favourite. I have custard creams if you don’t like them.”  
“No, no, I like them just fine.”  
“Correct answer.” Sherlock chuckled, settling himself in the chair opposite John.  
“Thanks for the tea.”  
Sherlock merely nodded, and took a sip of his own tea.  
“Are you sure your parents don’t mind me staying here?”  
Sherlock gave John a look of derision, propping himself up on his elbows.  
“Do you remember how excited my mother was when you came here for the day?”  
“Yeah...”  
“She’ll probably throw a party because you’re having a sleepover.” Sherlock quipped before stuffing a ginger nut into his mouth.  
“Fair point.”  
John took one of the biscuits, and nibbled on it slowly, trying not to think about his mother and sister.  
“I expect this is a given, but never mention what happened today. To anyone.” John said, his steely eyes staring Sherlock down. Despite being the taller of the two, the way John was glaring at him made him feel about two inches tall.  
“Do you understand, Sherlock?”  
“Yes.” He said quietly.  
He wasn’t sure what it was, but johns tone sent shiver down his spine, and his cheeks flush.  
“Promise?”  
“Promise.”  
John gave Sherlock one last warning look, then his features softened.  
“Did you know that all polar bears are left handed?” Sherlock asked after a moment.  
“I didn’t know that, no.”  
“Well they are.” Sherlock smirked over his tea cup.  
“Interesting.”  
“I know. That’s why I told you.”  
John chuckled, thoroughly amused that Sherlock’s idea of conversation was him spewing random facts, and john just nodding along.  
“I’m going to make spaghetti. Is that ok with you?”  
“Sure. Umm... what time does your mum get back?”  
“About 20:00. Why?” Sherlock asked as he got up to reboil the kettle.  
“Just wondering.”  
Just as Sherlock said, Mrs Holmes came home at 20:00 on the dot.  
“Sherlock, is your brother back yet- oh, hello John.”  
She cut herself off when she spotted John propped up on the sofa, the opposite end to Sherlock.  
“Hello Mrs Holmes.”  
“John and his mother have got into a fight, and I thought he could stay the night.” Sherlock drawled, tilting his head to look at his mother.  
“Is that ok?” John asked, as Sherlock had left that bit out.  
“Of course! Oh, I’m sorry dear that you’re fighting with your mother, but I’m glad to have you here.”  
Mrs Holmes smiled sadly at John, then quickly glanced at her own son before disappearing into the kitchen.  
“You’re Mum is so great.”  
“Yes. I do wish she’d shut up sometimes though. Talks about nothing all the time.” Sherlock muttered, rolling his eyes.  
“Have you boys had dinner? Oh, never mind. I can see you have. I do wish you’d put things in the dishwasher, Sherlock.”  
“Sorry, mother. See? Pointless.”  
Mycroft came home about an hour later, and he did not look impressed.  
“Mikey? What’s wrong?” Mrs Holmes asked from the kitchen when she saw the disgruntled look on her eldest son’s face.  
“Bloody people!” He declared before storming upstairs.  
“Mycroft’s back.” Sherlock mused, flinching when a door upstairs slammed shut.  
“Such a drama queen. Anyway, you don’t have to worry now. He’ll probably stay in there till tomorrow evening.”  
Shortly after, Mrs Holmes came in and suggested the boys went to bed, claiming that Sherlock behaved like a banshee when he hadn’t had enough sleep.  
“You mean to say he doesn’t normally?” John grinned, lightly nudging the boy in question. Mrs Holmes smiled broadly as she looked between both boys.  
“John, are you alright on an air mattress?”  
“Yeah, that’s fine.”  
John was loitering in Sherlock’s doorway as Mrs Holmes set up a bed for him.  
“You’ll have to borrow a pair of Sherlock’s pyjamas, although they will be a bit big. I can pop your stuff in the wash over night if you drop it downstairs.” Mrs Holmes said as she rummaged through Sherlock’s draws.  
“You better not mess up my sock index again.” Said the dark haired teen who was perched on his desk chair, critically watching her every move.  
“Sock index... honestly boy.”  
John held back a chuckle at this, impressed with how much patience Mrs Holmes had for her, at times, infuriating son.  
“Here you go. The trousers are drawstring, so they’ll be ok. The sleeves on the top will be a bit long, but I’m sure you’ll cope.”  
Mrs Holmes placed a pair of navy blue, pyjama trousers and a long, white sleeved shirt in his hands.  
“Thank you.”  
“No problem, dear. I’ll bring up some hot chocolate in a minute.”  
She went downstairs, and left the two boys to get ready for bed. “How long are your parents ok with me staying here?”  
“As long as you want. My father is away at a conference, so his opinions on the matter is moot, but my mother won’t mind, and I don’t care what Mycroft thinks.”  
John chuckled softly, briefly wondering when the terrifying teenager would make an appearance. Sherlock got his own pair of pyjamas out from under his pillow, and started to undress. He unbuttoned his school shirt, slowly revealing new, pale skin centimetre by centimetre. John was a little startled by Sherlock’s actions, and wasn’t sure where to look. He tried to look away, but couldn’t help himself, and ended up staring at the other boy. Sherlock took off his shirt, revealing his long torso, and washboard stomach. John felt his breath catch in his throat, and his boxer shorts tighten. He prayed to god his school trousers were loose enough to hide his arousal.  
“Aren’t you going to get dressed, John?”  
Sherlock mused.  
“What? Oh, yeah, yeah.”  
John was used to getting changed in front of other boys as he was on the football team, but this was Sherlock. It was different. He pulled off his own shirt somewhat tentatively, his well toned torso now in plain view. Sherlock watched John out of the corner of his eye as he slipped into the white sleep shirt. He was gorgeous underneath his shirt, just as Sherlock had imagined. He pushed the dream out of his head, and changed into his pyjama bottoms. He was completely unaware that johns eyes were glued to his lanky form. John had to be a bit more tactful when changing, and turned away from Sherlock as he slid off his trousers, and pulled on the loaned pyjama bottoms. They were too long, like the shirt, and hung off his limbs like clothes on a washing line.  
“Looks good.” Sherlock chuckled. “Nobody would ever know they were borrowed.” John grinned.  
Mrs Holmes returned a few minutes later with two mugs of hot chocolate.  
“Lights out at 10 Please, Sherlock.”  
“Yes mother.”  
“Thank you again for letting me stay Mrs Holmes.”  
“That’s alright, sweetie. Anytime.”  
It was that moment that Mrs Holmes caught Sherlock watching John with a sort of love sick expression. She had suspicions about the pairs’ blossoming friendship, but had nothing to confirm these queries other than their extreme fondness for one another. As she left the room, she could only pray that John would return Sherlock’s affections. The inconsolable mess he would turn into otherwise didn’t bare thinking about.  
The boys chatted for a few minutes about homework, up coming tests, and the very interesting gossip that Mycroft had been spotted talking to a girl. To one, not at one. At one would be nothing new. They’d been spotted by James Davidson, a boy in their year, chatting away in a corner. The girl even had her hand on mycroft’s arm apparently. John had seen it on the schools football group chat, and reported back to Sherlock.  
“Now, that is interesting. To me, at least, but what interest is it to James?” Sherlock queried, leaning over johns shoulder to get a better look.  
“It’s his sister, Erin.”  
“Erin?”  
“Reddish hair, green eyes.”  
“Oh, Yes I’ve seen her.” Sherlock said as he recalled seeing the girl talking to her brother outside the tennis hall.  
“Quite pretty too.”  
“Ok.”  
John creased his eyebrows, but shrugged it off.  
“We should go to sleep. We have school tomorrow.”  
“Oh, yeah ok.”  
Sherlock and John got into bed, and turned out the lights. Sherlock could only hope John couldn’t hear him crying himself to sleep.


	9. Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy

Sherlock awoke before John the next morning, giving him enough time to sneak to the bathroom, and wipe away any evidence of his tears. He thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t had another wet dream. He woke John with the closing of the door when he came back.   
“Sherlock?”   
“Sorry. I was just in the bathroom.” He mumbled as he crawled back under the covers.   
“What time is it?” John asked, voice raw and husky with sleep.   
Sherlock tried not to let this fact distract him as he fumbled on his bed stand for his alarm clock.   
“05:45”   
“Ugh.” John groaned, throwing a pillow over his head.   
“Might as well get up then.” Sherlock murmured.   
Both boys could have done with more sleep, but got up, and went downstairs regardless. Mrs Holmes wasn’t in the kitchen, presumably sleeping till a more reasonable hour. The tired teenagers sat down at the bar stools by the table, and rested their heads on their elbows. They were drifting off when Mrs Holmes came downstairs.   
“Good morning.”   
Both boys grumbled their responses. She let them wake themselves up a bit more before asking any questions.   
“Did you sleep Alright?”   
“Yea Thanks.”  
“Oh, Good. You know, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, John. You can maybe nip home for some clothes after school.”   
“We have to stop at his house before hand. He hasn’t got his school bag.” Sherlock quipped from the other side of the room where he was poking around in the fridge.   
“Damnit. You’re right, I don’t.”  
“I can drive you boys to school to save time if you want.”   
“Is that ok?”   
“Of course. Now, what do you two want for breakfast?”  
“Don’t need breakfast.” Sherlock mumbled as he popped a single blueberry into his mouth.   
“Yes you do. It’ll have to be quick though. Toast alright?”  
“Yeah, defiantly. Thanks.” John was peering over at Sherlock.   
“John, tea or coffee?”   
“Tea please.”  
“Sugar?”  
“No thanks. Sherlock, are you alright?”   
Said boy had been staring at the wall in front of him long enough to beg questions.   
“What? Yes, I’m fine.”   
This was of course a lie. Sherlock knew that John would go home after this, and he’d have to share him with other people. Here, he didn’t have to fight people for his attention. John would get bored with him, and he’d be alone again. Alone was there for him before John, it would be there after John. Alone was all he had. He blinked away the tears he felt brimming in his eyes.   
“Just thinking about the homework.”  
It was in this moment that Sherlock was truly great full that other people weren’t like him. If John had been like him, he would have noticed his tears, and asked him why he was crying. He could hardly say he was crying about geography homework. He’d have to lie.   
“I’m going to get dressed.” Sherlock said, then left before John could stop him. He sat in front of his mirror, staring at his uniform clad figure. He was tall, pale, and lanky with dark hair. John on the other hand was tanned, muscular, with beach blond hair. Their differences extended from those of the physical type, and on to their personalities. Sherlock couldn’t see those looking in the mirror, but he knew they were there. He knew people were confused by their friendship, and for the first time he actually cared what other people thought of him. He cared what people would say to John about him.


	10. Of course you’re not gay, John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finally catches on, and realises he has feelings for Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short, hope you enjoy. Thanks for the comments ;)

School was the same as always, the embarrassment of PE, fending off Molly in biology, and staring holes in the back of Rosie’s head in French. A new thing he found himself doing was spending morning break in the bathroom, crying his soul out in an empty toilet stall. At the end of the day, John had a phone call from his mother telling him to come home. He’d gone home with Sherlock to pick up some stuff, thanked Mrs Holmes, then trudged home. Sherlock sulked in his room, and refused to come down to eat his dinner. The plate of food his mother sent up was promptly thrown down the toilet. The next day, Sherlock overslept, and had to be driven to school. His mother knew his mood had something to do with John, but she daren’t ask. He’d sat with John during lunch, but as always, Rosie was there too. John had declined Sherlock’s offer of going to see a film, and had said he was going to spend time with Rosie. Sherlock had excused himself to cry in the bathroom, and hadn’t made it back before next class. It was unknown to him that John had panicked, and asked Rosie to hang out. Why did he think of Sherlock all the time? He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t. At least that was what he told himself. He felt like punching himself in the face when he saw the look on Sherlock’s after he declined his offer. He’d gone to a cafe with Rosie, where he found himself thinking, slash worrying about Sherlock the entire time.


	11. Sensitivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has an emotional meltdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this. I hope it’s not too out of character for Sherlock. Mycroft did once say he was a very emotional child on the show, so... also, he and John talk about their feelings in the next chapter. ;)
> 
> Also, imagine the song ‘you are always on my mind’ playing here.

He was going to see Rosie. He wanted to see her. He was going to leave Sherlock, and he was going to spend time with her. Sherlock walked back home from school, tears beginning to fall from his eyes. By the time he got to the front door, iridescent beads were streaming down his face. He fumbled around for his keys, then tumbled through into the hallway.  
“Sherlock?” Mycroft’s icy voice rumbled from the kitchen.  
The older boy appeared in the doorway to see the mess that was his little brother.  
“What’s wrong?”  
He moved towards Sherlock, only to have the younger boy throw himself into his arms, and crumple in a heap.  
“Sherlock?”  
Mycroft was alarmed at this, not accustomed to Sherlock showing emotion. Despite being a rather sensitive child, this was still a surprising sight. Although neither he or Sherlock had a grasp on their own emotions, he had a better understanding of others’. The curly haired boy’s shoulders were shaking as he wept, drenching the front of his brother’s shirt. Mycroft slowly put his arms around him, and held him close to his chest.  
“What’s the matter?” He asked gently.  
Sherlock mumbled something unintelligible into mycroft’s chest.  
“Sherlock-“  
“He Just left. I’ve been there for him, not her, and he’s gone to see her!” Sherlock wailed, balling his fists in mycrofts shirt.  
“Are you talking about John?”  
“Who else?! I have no other friends! John is the only person who actually likes me.”  
Mycroft paused for a moment. He enjoyed the solitude that his persona brought him. He’d never considered for a moment that Sherlock felt differently.  
“He won’t like me for long. People will tell him all about me, and he’ll never talk to me again!”  
Sherlock was hysterical by this point, sobs racking his body.  
“I can’t go back to what my life was before him...”  
Mycroft lowered both of them to the floor, and carefully pulled the younger boy close.  
“Sherlock, forgive me if I’m wrong, but it sounds to me as if you’re in love with him.”  
Sherlock locked eyes with Mycroft for a moment, then looked down at the floor, his eyebrows furrowed. Was he in love with John? He knew he’d developed feelings for him, but love? Sherlock slowly rose to his feet, turned on his heal, and disappeared up stairs. The brunette collapsed on his bed, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Being sad really made one feel tired.


	12. I’m not a psychopath, I’m a high functioning sociopath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comes to Sherlock’s rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to violence, please read at your own risk.

Sherlock arrived at school with minutes to spare. John was sitting on a bench, talking to a red headed boy. Sherlock wasn't sure if he aught to approach him, and instead walked right past him.   
"Hello, Sherlock."  
"Hello, Molly."   
The sandy haired girl had tagged along, and followed him into class.  
"Where's John?"  
Sherlock felt a sting of pain when he heard the blond's name.   
"I don't know. How was your week?" He said in one breath, anxious to change the subject.   
"Oh it was good..."   
Sherlock didn't hear the rest of what she said. He stayed in trance through out school, only leaving it to shout at the English substitute teacher, and make her cry. His head was still in the clouds on the way home.   
"Oi!"  
The brunette kept his head down.  
"Oi, freak! We're talking to you."  
Sherlock turned around, and saw a pasty faced boy, and a dark haired girl. He recognised them as Phillip Anderson and Sally Donovan. He continued on his path, and briskly walked away. He knew they were following him. In a battle of wits, Sherlock could beat anyone, no doubt about it, but he was less experienced in the physical kind.   
"You think it's funny to show people up?" Donovan called after him.   
"And not just the sub teacher. You do it to everyone." Anderson barked.   
"Because you're a freak!"  
Sherlock halted in his steps. This was just one of the names people had called him over the years. 'Freak, creep, nutcase, lunatic, basket case, looser, dork.' He bit back tears, and tried to put those memories at the back of his mind. He hadn't noticed the other two teenagers had gotten closer to him in his daze.   
"Congratulations, you two may actually have half a brain cell between you."   
Sherlock realised too late that this was the wrong thing to say. They pushed him from behind, and sent sprawling out on the cold gravel.   
"I've wanted to hit you for so long. For all the times you've made me feel stupid!" Anderson yelled.   
"Does it make you feel good? Do you get off on it?"  
"I bet he does, Sally. You wanna know why? Because he's a psychopath."  
Sherlock managed to pull himself off the ground, and held his weight on his hands.   
"I'm not a psychopath." He said calmly, slowly getting to his feet.  
"I'm a high functioning sociopath. Do your research."   
This landed him a blow to the abdomen. He fell to his knees, hunched over in agony. A blow to the head knocked him out cold.   
John had seen Anderson and Donovan follow Sherlock out of the school gates, and gone after them. He'd lost them after getting distracted by a phone call from his mum. He came across one of those streets that are deserted other than the sheds that backed onto them. In the distance, he spotted the pair stood over something on the floor. His blood ran cold when it dawned on him that the something was in fact someone, and someone was Sherlock. He hadn't even realised what he was doing until he felt a sharp pain in his knuckles, and Anderson exclaiming, holding his bloody nose.   
"What the hell do you think you are doing?!" He yelled.   
Anderson just sputtered something intelligible, and Donovan sensibly kept her mouth shut.   
"Well?!"  
"He's a show off."   
"What did you say?" John asked, pulling Anderson up by his shirt collar.   
"I said he's a show off!"  
"And that means it's ok for you to attack him? What is the matter with you two?!"   
Neither of them had the bottle to answer.   
"Get out of Here before I call the cops." John spat, his body shaking with rage.   
Donovan and Anderson made their first good decision all day. They ran away. John ran back to Sherlock's limp form, and dropped to his knees. He checked for his pulse, then to see if he was breathing. He carefully pulled Sherlock's head into his lap.   
"Sherlock, can you hear me? Sherlock?"  
The sound of John's voice brought him round, his magical blue eyes fluttering open.   
"John? What happened?"  
"Don't worry about that now. You're here with me, and you're safe."   
Sherlock tilted his head backwards to look into johns eyes. He blushed when he instantly locked eyes with him. John looked away, his cheeks also flushed.   
"Where are you hurt?" He asked, this time avoiding eye contact.   
"Cranium and general torso."   
"Can you sit up?"   
"I believe so."   
John helped him sit up, then shuffled round in front of him.   
"What about standing?"  
"I'll need a hand, but yes."   
John took Sherlock's long fingered hand in his, and pulled him to his feet.   
"Shall I call Mycroft?"  
"God no."  
John grinned.   
"That... that thing you did... back there. Thank you." Sherlock said after a moment.  
"What thing?"  
"Come on, I know you punched Anderson in the face. Your knuckles are all bruised."   
"How do you know I didn't punch Donovan?" John queried.   
"It was a guess. Anderson just has a much more punchable face."   
John chuckled, as did Sherlock.   
"I see your deduction skills are back."   
Sherlock smiled to himself. When they got to Sherlock's house, he gave John the keys, his hand eye coordination a little impaired.   
"Will your mum and dad be home soon?" John asked as he steered the giddy teen into the lounge.   
"In about two hours... What are you doing?" Sherlock asked when he noticed John leaning in towards him.   
"Checking you for a concussion." The blond chuckled.   
"You know how?"   
"It may surprise you Sherlock, but I'm not a complete idiot."   
"I wouldn't say a complete idiot-"  
"Just shut up, and look at this light."   
Sherlock focused on the light provided by johns phone torch, then into johns eyes.   
"Ok... I don't think you're concussed." John said, sitting back on his heals.   
"Shall I... check your other injuries?"   
"Alright. May I ask, where did you learn about this stuff?"   
"St John's Ambulance course." John said as he checked under Sherlock's curls for any bleeding, or bumps.   
"Ah. Did one of those myself."   
"How did you like it?"  
"It was very informative. You?"   
"It actually made me want to be a doctor."   
"Really?" Sherlock questioned, his lip curling in a smile.   
"Yes, I really enjoyed it. Right up until the moth to mouth on those creepy dolls... if you'd been much worse, I may have had to do that to you." John joked, but instantly paused as he realised the meaning of his words. He sat back again, and ran his eyes over Sherlock. He was regarding him with the same heated stare.   
"Shall I check your... torso?" He asked slowly, trying to remember the word Sherlock had used.   
"Alright."   
Sherlock brought his hands to his chest, and with long, nibble fingers, he began to undo the buttons of his school shirt. John had caught a brief glimpse of Sherlock without his shirt before, but this was different somehow. He seemed exposed, not just of his shirt, but of something else too. The brunette watched John intently as he examined his chest, gently touching his pale skin, asking where it hurt. He couldn't help but wonder what the broader boy looked like sans his shirt. He found himself staring at johns still clothed body with lust filled eyes. When he looked back up, John's face was right by his own. He tried to control himself, taking deep breaths. Thankful, John pulled away, and sat back.   
"Your ribs are bruised, but I'm not too worried. Obviously, I'm not really, or at all qualified to make theses diagnoses, so maybe you should see a doctor?" John said cautiously, his eyes landing everywhere but Sherlock's.   
"Yes. Good idea John. I'll tell my mum when she gets home."   
Sherlock stayed still, his eyes darting around the room.   
"I'm not keeping you from Rosie, am I?" Sherlock asked suddenly, not caring how bitter he sounded.  
John didn’t seem taken a back, and if he was, he didn’t show it.   
"No, no you’re not."   
"She's your girlfriend though, isn't she?"  
He was fed up of guessing, and just wanted an answer by this point. He was unable to look John in the eye as he waited for a reply.   
"She's not."   
Sherlock returned his gaze to John, trying not to look too pleased.   
"I thought you liked her?"  
"I do. But not like that.”  
Sherlock wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words.   
“You can do your shirt back up now.” John chuckled.   
“Oh.”  
Sherlock’s cheeks flushed as he did his school shirt back up.   
“Anyway, Thank you for everything-“  
Before Sherlock had a chance to finish his sentence, John had leant forwards, and pressed his lips up against his own. Sherlock felt his brain short circuiting, everything about John's lips hit him in a wave. Soft, warm, minty, and exactly how he'd imagined. What was throwing him was that he wasn’t imagining it anymore. John was kissing him. He still hadn’t had time to comprehend what was happening by the time John pulled back. He sat, in silence, just staring at John. John had just kissed him. He and John had just kissed. His mind swirled as he tried to arrange his thoughts.   
John wasn’t saying anything. He was staring down at his hands, breathing shakily.   
“Why did you do that?” Sherlock finally blurted.   
John inhaled, but still didn’t say anything.   
“John-“  
“I don’t know! I don’t-“ John sighed. “Know.” He finished quietly. “I should go.”   
Before Sherlock had a chance to stop him, John had run out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. I apologise to those who like Sally and Phillip, but I needed bullies, and they were there.


	13. labels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A distraught Sherlock confronts John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for the comments xxx

The next morning, Sherlock had to be prised out of bed, and his mother dropped him at school to ensure he didn’t run off. He hadn’t said anything about his injuries to his mother, although then he could have blamed the tears on physical pain rather than emotional. He felt his heart wrench when he saw John talking to Rosie a few yards away. John looked up, but quickly looked away after making eye contact. Sherlock walked swiftly through to the bathrooms were he collapsed in one of the stalls, sobs violently wracking his body. It was bad enough just having to deal with his one sided feelings for John, but this was down right unfair. What was John playing at? Maybe he was just like the rest of them. He’d been used before by people who got him to do their homework, but this was worse by a factor of 1000. He walked to his first class, chemistry, still bleary eyed, and sat down at the back.  
“Sherlock?”  
He looked up to see Lesteade looking at him.  
“Hey, are you ok?”  
“I’m fine.” Sherlock snarked, turning in his seat when lestrade came over to sit with him.  
“You’re obviously not, but if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. Just know that you can if you change your mind.”  
Sherlock wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and looked up at his favourite teacher, although there wasn’t exactly much competition.  
“Why do you care? I contradict you all the time, I make you look like a complete idiot in front of everyone else, and I’m just a...”  
Freak. That’s what he was. Sherlock felt another sobbing fit coming on, but he held back his tears. “An asshole.”  
He heard Lestrade chuckle.  
“Well, I wouldn’t say you make me look like a complete idiot.”  
Sherlock turned to face him again. He was regarding Sherlock with kind eyes, his expression somewhat comforting.  
“And yes, you are an asshole. I won’t lie to you. But you’re also a great young man. In fact, one day,” he said, standing up. “You might even make a good one.”  
He walked back down to his desk at the other end of the class room, leaving Sherlock to ponder his cryptic statement as the other children filtered in to the classroom. 

He successfully managed to avoid John for most of the day, spending his time with Molly and Mike instead. Unfortunately, he couldn’t avoid him forever. He saw John in the courtyard, and thought he’d managed to get by unseen. But John has spotted him, and trailed after him.  
“I’m sorry about what happened yesterday.”  
Sherlock halted in his tracks when he heard John’s voice. Was he here to gauge the knife further in to his back? Never one to shy away from confrontation, Sherlock turned around to face him.  
“You’re sorry about the kiss, or what happened after?”  
John inhaled deeply.  
“About what happened after.” He said, not looking up. “Look, Sherlock, I meant it when I said I wasn’t gay.”  
Knife. Back.  
“And yet I find myself liking you anyway.”  
Sherlock felt his breath hitch.  
“That’s called being bisexual, you twat.”  
He snarked, being sure not to sound too malicious. John chuckled, and despite himself, Sherlock found himself chuckling too. After a moment, John sighed deeply, his gaze darting between Sherlock and the wall behind his head.  
“I- ahem- I... like you a lot, and I just panicked. I’ve never liked a boy before, and then...” He kept his gaze fixed on Sherlock this time.  
“Then there was You.”  
Sherlock’s gaze met his, his eyes wide.  
“You took me be surprise.”  
Sherlock felt his heart fluttering.  
“Honestly, labels don’t mean shit. I just want you. It doesn’t matter whether you’re either gender, neither, inbetween, or undecided. I like you. Sherlock Holmes.”  
Sherlock had never been speechless so many times in his life. What was this boy doing to him?  
“You know what? Fuck it.”  
Sherlock didn’t have time to react before he felt John crash their lips together, and pin him to the wall. He closed his eyes as he felt himself melting in to the kiss, but it was only briefly, as John pulled back a moment later, eyes closed, chest heaving. Sherlock just watched him in silence, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal, and just stared up at John from where he was trapped between his muscular arms.  
“Would you please say something.”  
Sherlock felt a wave of confidence hit him, and grabbed John by his tie to pull him down to his lips. It was tentative, and sweet, their mouths opening slowly to allow their tongues to gently caress one another. When they broke away, they were both breathing heavily.  
“Well, That wasn’t exactly words, but...” John chuckled. He reached down to grasp Sherlock’s hand, and squeezed it affectionately.  
“I liked it.”  
Sherlock swallowed thickly.  
“Me too.” He smiled nervously. “I forgive you.”  
John tugged his lips up in to a smile, and looked deep into Sherlock’s bright blue eyes.  
“Thank you.”  
He leant in to nose at Sherlock affectionately, then peppered his cheeks with soft kisses.  
“I promise I won’t lie to myself anymore. But umm... can we keep this between us for now?”  
Sherlock nodded sincerely.  
“I don’t mind.”  
“Speaking of, I’m kinda tempted to keep you between this wall.” John smirked.  
Sherlock blushed furiously, and hid his face behind his curls in a fit of giggles.  
“You’re cute.”  
John poked his tongue between his lips, and swiped it across the surface.  
“Can I walk you home?”  
Sherlock beamed up at him.  
“Sure.”  
They walked side by side, playfully bumping each other with their shoulders. Sherlock felt all the sadness and frustration he’d felt that morning melt away. He couldn’t blame John for fucking up. They were both young, and of course they would make mistakes.  
“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” John asked from where he was leant up against the gate.  
“Sure.” Sherlock beamed, a bean that stayed on his face long after John left.


	14. Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has some “alone time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was difficult to write. I mean, it’s sherlock.

Sherlock woke earlier than he wanted to on a Saturday, but he didn’t even care. John had kissed him. John liked him. John promised he would lie to himself anymore. Sherlock had butterflies in his stomach, which had also spread to his groin. He knew the expression ‘ants in your pants’ but this was ridiculous’. He looked under the covers, and saw a tent in his pyjamas. He had a working knowledge of biology, but it was too early in the morning to apply it to this moment. He glared down at the imposing erection, and foolishly tried to push it back down. This plan sort of backfired as the contact sent a wave of sensations along his cock, and up his spine. He tried to silence a moan at the feeling. He slid his pyjamas and boxers down his hips, revealing his fully erect cock. He noted that the length had increased once hard, now close to five inches. He felt a sense of embarrassment as he reached down to touch himself. He let out a low wine as his long, nimble fingers came into contact with the soft, delicate skin. He gently gripped his fingers around his length, and began to move his fist. The pleasure that began to spread throughout his body, his every nerve, had him reeling. He increased his pace, which only made him moan louder. He shoved his fist into his mouth as he worked himself, his movements becoming sloppy. A pressure was building in his abdomen. He guessed he was getting close, and hurried his actions, desperate for release. As he came, there was one word on his lips.  
“JOHN!”  
He cried out the name of the gorgeous blond before falling back on his bed, exhausted, and elated. He couldn’t help but marvel at how wonderful his body felt, practically buzzing with endorphins. He could only be sorry that he’d been asleep for his very first orgasm. He would have stayed there all day if his mother didn’t come knocking for him.  
“Are you Alright in there Sherlock?”  
“Yes, mummy. Fine.” He rambled, feeling the need to cover himself with his sheets despite the fact that there was a locked door between them. He hoped she hadn’t heard him crying out. There would simply be no denying what had happened. He showered quickly, then dressed, and ran down the stairs.  
“Are you not going out?” He asked upon seeing his parents sat down for breakfast.  
“No. Are you?”  
“Yes.” He said quickly. He didn’t really feel like having his parents company when entertaining John.  
“Where are you going?” His father asked, holding out a cup of tea for him.  
“Mrs Hudson’s. Just for a visit.”  
He sat down next to his mother, and quickly texted John. 

To John:

Change of plans. 221b Baker Street, 2 o’clock.  
-SH. 

The text back from John assured he would be there. There’s also an ‘x’ at the end. That was different. Sherlock felt his heart surge, the butterflies flapping again. If something as small as that had him swooning, his heart was in trouble of exploding.


	15. His John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock indulge in a little quality time together. 😏

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so cringeworthy. I apologise. 😂 Also, it gets way smuttier later. 😜  
> let me know if you guys have any suggestions.

John arrived at two o’clock on the dot.  
“Hello, Mrs Hudson. Is Sherlock here?” John asked anxiously, his fingers tugging at the hem on his shirt.  
“Yes, he’s upstairs. Come on in.”  
“Thanks. So, how are you?”  
“Oh, you needn’t bother with that, love. Go on up to him.” She said with a knowing smile.  
John went up the staircase in search of Sherlock. Said boy was pacing the living room, his hands folded behind his back.  
“Sherlock?”  
He stopped in his tracks, and turned to look at John. A smile appeared on his face upon seeing the blond.  
“Hello.”  
“Hey.”  
“Ummm... I thought we could watch a film?”  
Sherlock held out a dvd, carefully watching for johns reaction.  
“Ready player one? Sure.”  
“You haven’t seen it.” Sherlock remarked, taking the dvd to put it on.  
“I haven’t. Have you?”  
“No. I don’t really watch films. But I thought you might like to.”  
Sherlock caught johns eye when he looked back up. Johns gaze switched between his lips and eyes before the slighter boy broke the gaze, and went into the kitchen.  
“I bought popcorn. Do you like popcorn?”  
“Everyone likes popcorn.” John chuckled as he slumped down on the sofa.  
“Well-“  
“Nearly everyone likes popcorn.”  
Sherlock drew his lip between his teeth, grinning. He settled down next to John, a few inches away, then pressed play. Throughout the film, he shuffled closer to John until they were shoulder to shoulder. John looked over to Sherlock, who was completely immersed in the film, gaze transfixed on the fight scene before him. He reached over, and took Sherlock’s pale hand in his. He tensed, then looked down at their joined hands, and smiled. By the end of the film, Sherlock had fallen asleep on johns shoulder. The older boy looked down at his dozing form, and tentatively pushed a dark curl away from his face. At the contact, his eyes fluttered open.  
“John?”  
“I’m here.”  
Sherlock rubbed his eyes, and arched his back.  
“I’m not dreaming, am I?” He asked groggily, his eyes going to the shoulder he’d been using as a pillow.  
John paused for a moment. The brilliant boy before him had such doubt about himself that he wasn’t sure any of this had really happened.  
“No.”  
A smile appeared on Sherlock’s face.  
“In fact, allow me to prove it.”  
John leaned in towards him, and pressed his lips up against Sherlock’s. He would have pulled back after if he hadn’t felt Sherlock’s hands move to grip his shoulders. He could feel that the narrow teen was shaking. Sherlock, who was so sure of everything, and confident to the point of obnoxious, but was reduced to a simpering mess in johns arms. John snaked his arms around Sherlock’s waist, pulling him closer. He felt him relax against him at this. John ran his tongue along the brunette’s soft, plump lips. A small moan escaped Sherlock, which turned into a whine when John slipped his tongue into his mouth. When they pulled apart, they stared at each other, eyes hooded.  
“Well, that was a fun experiment.” Sherlock said, a grin on his face.  
“Indeed.” The blond smiled. “You know what they say about experiments?”  
Sherlock quirked his eyebrows.  
John leant in again, and pressed his lips against his ear.  
“You have to repeat them.”  
He smirked when he felt Sherlock shiver. He sat back, and looked at the other boy who had turned a deep shade of pink.  
“You free Monday?”  
“Yes.” Sherlock beamed.  
“My house after school. Mum and sister are out.”  
“Ok.”  
John stood up, and headed for the door. He paused for a moment, then turned back to Sherlock. He placed his fingers under the younger boy’s chin, tilted his face up, and connected their lips in a parting kiss.  
“See you Monday.”  
Sherlock sat on the sofa till long after dark, locked away in his mind palace, dreaming of John. Although he only had dream John now, on Monday he would spend all day with the real John. His John.


	16. That good?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John become a bit more aquatinted with each other’s bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda shit, I won’t deny it 😆. I rushed through it, cos I wanna get to the good stuff.

Monday. Date with John. Was it a date? It was definitely with John. It was definitely Monday. *thump* Head in the clouds, Sherlock walked straight into a lamppost, and tumbled backwards.  
“Sherlock?! What are you doing?!”  
John appeared above him, chuckling at his clumsiness.  
“I was distracted.”  
John rolled his eyes, and pulled Sherlock to his feet.  
“Thank you.”  
Sherlock looked eyes with John, blue orbs wide. John darted his tongue out to lick his lips, then grinned.  
“Later.” He said with a wink, then lead Sherlock into school. 

**********

Sherlock could hardly wait for school to be over. He ran over to John at the end of the day, practically clattering in to him.  
“Steady on.” He chuckled, holding Sherlock’s shoulders.  
“Sorry.”  
“Come on then. My place.” He said quietly so as not to be overheard.  
They walked in a comfortable silence back to johns house.  
“So what do you want to do?” John asked.  
“I don’t know.”  
“We could make out.”  
John turned to look at Sherlock, his lips pursed, and eyebrows raised.  
Sherlock felt his cheeks flush.  
“Alright. I’d quite like that.”  
Sherlock felt his heart hammering in his chest as John lent in towards him. A warm sensation went down Sherlock’s spine, and filled his abdomen as their lips touched. He felt his cock twitch in his trousers. He didn’t have time to think about it before he felt John’s warm, wet tongue slip past his lips. He moaned softly, and opened his mouth to grant John more access. Sherlock was surprising himself at how needy and ready he was for this sort of thing. After that first small taste of the world of ‘shenanigans’, he found himself desperate for more. He moaned when John slipped his hands round his waist, under his ass, and pulled him into his lap. Sherlock was glad he wasn’t the only one who was hard. He could feel John’s lengthy erection through his jeans, brushing between his legs.  
“Can I take this off?” John asked, pulling at Sherlock’s shirt.  
Sherlock was surprised, but it didn’t feel rushed, it felt natural. John was hardly a stranger.  
“Yes.”  
He lifted his arms to allow John to pull the garment off, then reconnected their lips in a hungry kiss.  
John moved his head down, and attached his lips to Sherlock’s shoulder, where he began sucking at the skin.  
“John...” Sherlock moaned, breathing heavily.  
Johns lips and teeth attacked his skin, drawing all the blood to the surface. He continued leaving hickeys all down Sherlock’s body, only stopping at his waistband.  
“Oh... ah... mmm...” Sherlock hummed in appreciation. When John pulled back, there were angry red marks covering Sherlock’s skin.  
“No one will know they’re there.”  
John said, licking his lips. “Except you..” he moved his face closer to Sherlock’s. “And me.”  
They were only centimetres apart, breathing each other’s air.  
“When we’re sitting in class... I’ll know you’re covered in hickeys, because of the things I did to you... I know you’ll think about this moment... every time you look in the mirror... And that really turns me on.” He mumbled between kisses.  
Sherlock titled his hips forwards, and gasped when he felt Johns length rub against his own hardened shaft.  
“Mmm... oh.” John moaned, arching his pelvis.  
“So hard for you.” He groaned, running his hands up Sherlock’s back.  
“I know.” Sherlock said coyly, reaching down between them to squeeze John through his jeans.  
“Ah!”  
John closed his eyes in pleasure.  
“I think we should leave this for another day.”  
Sherlock sat back on his legs, and pouted.  
“Was that not ok?”  
John chuckled.  
“No, it was. So good in fact. But these are nice trousers. I don’t want to ruin them. Do you get what I’m saying?” John asked with a smirk.  
Sherlock blushed.  
“That good, huh?”  
“Yes, baby. That good.”  
Sherlock felt his heart lurch when John called him baby.  
“When is good for you?” John asked, lightly squeezing Sherlock’s ass.  
“Thursday.” Sherlock squeaked.  
“Alright sweet thing. TV now?”  
“Ok.” Sherlock beamed, and went to climb off John.  
“Stay on my lap.”  
Sherlock grinned, and turned himself round so he was resting against johns chest.  
“I could stay like this all day.” John sighed, pressing a kiss in to Sherlock’s curls.  
“Me too.”  
A few hours later, John walked Sherlock home.  
“I will see you in the morning, babe.”  
“I can’t wait.”  
John grinned.  
Sherlock watched him walk down the street till he couldn’t see him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is innocent until John corrupts him. Wait for it 😉.


	17. Computer games - slang for handjob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock sees John’s cock for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make this as realistic as possible, awkward and bumpy. As their relationship progresses, i’ll have them settle in to themselves, e.g. John will become more dominant. Also, I don’t believe that having a discussion about boundaries and rules is a mood killer. It’s important.

School was difficult. Sherlock wanted nothing more than to hold John’s hand, but he knew he couldn’t. He sat with him in lunch, and they walked to and from classes when they could, but they had agreed on keeping their relationship just between them for now. He’d made the mistake of googling ‘how to give a blowjob’ and after hastily deleting his internet history, practiced on a banana. He knew it was stupid, juvenile, but he didn’t want to fuck up. He was now loitering in the playground for John to finish football practice, anticipation pooling in his stomach. He couldn’t help but ogle the blond as he ran over, hair a mess, skin glistening with beads of perspiration, his football kit stuck to his toned figure.   
“Hey.”   
“Hey.” Sherlock replied, unable to take his eyes off him.   
John grinned to himself, and lightly bumped Sherlock’s shoulder.   
“Shall we go back to mine then?” John asked, lip chewed between his teeth.   
Sherlock nodded, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. Sherlock felt anxiety creeping up on him as they walked. What if he did it wrong? What if he wasn’t good?   
“Hey, you ok?”   
John reached over, and touched his hand, not holding it, simply brushing against him.   
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”   
They walked up to john’s house, and stepped indoors.   
“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” John said honestly, looking at Sherlock with sincerity.   
“I do want to. I really do. I’m...” Sherlock looked down. “I’m worried I’ll be a disappointment.”   
John felt his heart sink when he heard Sherlock’s words.   
“Baby, You could never disappoint me.” John said softly, cupping Sherlock’s cheek.   
Sherlock looked up, and into his eyes.   
“You’re amazing at everything...”   
John tilted his head to the side, and leant in towards Sherlock. “I don’t see why this should be an exception.”   
He connected their lips in a passionate kiss, and felt the slighter teen relax almost immediately. Sherlock was confident and cocky in every other aspect of his life, but here now, with John, he was vulnerable. It was rather endearing and somewhat of a turn on to see him like this. John used his hands to slowly roam Sherlock’s body, enjoying the way he tensed and shivered under his touch. He ran his tongue along Sherlock’s full lips, asking for entrance. Sherlock moaned softly into John’s mouth as he allowed him access. John began exploring Sherlock’s mouth with his tongue, using it to brush against Sherlock’s own tongue, and using his teeth to bite at his lips. Sherlock’s hands had found their way from John’s shoulders, to his chest, then his waist. Sherlock experimentally drew in a breath, his lips still connected to John’s. This move proved effective as John groaned softly, and moved further into sherlocks space. Sherlock felt arousal course through his body as he felt something hard poke against him.   
“Do you want to go upstairs?” John sighed heavily.   
Sherlock hesitated for a moment, then opened his eyes to look at John. He felt a wave of courage hit him as they stared at each other.   
“Yes.” He beamed.   
Sherlock accepted johns hand, and followed him upstairs.   
“Ok, first things first. Boundaries are very important. What are your rules?” John asked, pulling Sherlock into his lap.   
“No sex. I’m not ready. Just yet.” Sherlock said, affectionately running his fingers along John’s arms.   
“That works well. I’m not quite ready either. I’ve never had a relationship before, so... Anything else?”   
Sherlock drew his bottom lip between his teeth as he considered what he wanted to say.   
“I expect this is a given, but if one of us says no, the other has to stop.”   
“Of course. I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable.” John said with a squeeze to Sherlock’s hand.   
Sherlock felt truly safe, and loved. He trusted John, he trusted he wouldn’t hurt him, and he trusted himself not to screw this up.  
“If what I do next isn’t ok, please stop me.”  
Sherlock said gently.   
He pressed a kiss to John’s lips, one that continued down to his neck, and his chest once Sherlock pulled his shirt off. He kissed all the way down to his waistband, sinking to his knees where he felt John’s clothed erection hit the underside of his throat. John was watching him with hooded eyes as he slithered down his toned body. Sherlock rested his hand on johns legs, hoping he couldn’t see how much his hands were shaking. He was still nervous, but the shaking was also from excitement. He gingerly slid Johns football shorts down his legs, and let them pool at his ankles. Without the outer layer, Johns hard cock was very prominent in his boxers. Sherlock felt a pulse of arousal in his abdomen and his groin as he looked at it. He’d felt Johns cock against his leg before, but he hadn’t really got a good look at it. By Sherlock’s measurements, he’d guess six and a half inches. He returned his gaze to john’s face. John hadn’t taken his eyes off the brunette, his mind swirling. Sherlock made sure to maintain eye contact as he reached for the waistband of John’s Calvin Klein’s. After a nod of permission, Sherlock pulled them down. Sherlock inhaled sharply as he stared at Johns cock. It was long, and thick, larger than his own. It was a slightly different shade to the rest of his skin, and almost red in some places, flushed with blood, angry and pulsing. He’d just begun to feel confident, but after coming face to face with it, Sherlock felt rather intimidated. How was he going to get it in his mouth.   
“You ok?” John asked, reaching down to touch Sherlock’s cheek.   
“Yes, fine. Just trying to work out how to not choke on your penis.”  
John laughed then, and shook his curls.   
“You’re so cute.”  
Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, but shrugged it off.   
“Umm... I... I’m not sure how I...”  
After letting him dither for a moment, John spoke.   
“Look, maybe we should start with something easier.” John said slowly, pulling his boxers back up.   
Sherlock visibly relaxed, and exhaled a shaky breath.   
“Maybe a hand job.”   
“Ok.” Sherlock nodded enthusiastically. He definitely wanted to pleasure John, but a blow job was probably starting in the deep end. Sherlock climbed back on to the bed, and knelt down beside John.   
“I’m sure it’s no surprise that I don’t know how to do this either.” Sherlock chuckled.   
“It’s like when you do it to yourself, just a different angle.”   
Sherlock blushed, and looked away.   
“You have masturbated before, haven’t you?”  
Sherlock’s blush deepened further, and spread down his neck.   
“Once.” Sherlock said, refusing to make eye contact. “While fantasying about you.” He added quietly.   
Johns eyes went wide.   
“Really?” He asked, shuffling closer to Sherlock.   
“Yes...”   
“And what happened?” John asked quietly, his face right next to Sherlock’s.   
“I came to the thought of you.” He blurted, shifting his gaze to John’s for a brief second. Johns lips pulled into a grin. Imagining Sherlock getting off to the thought of him turned him on even more so than he already was.   
“I fantasise about you too.” He breathed heavily by Sherlock’s ear.   
The brunette shivered, and moaned softly.   
“Shall I show you what I do?”  
“Yes.” Sherlock stated enthusiastically.  
John slid his underwear back down, then took Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock’s heart hammered violently when John placed both their hands in his cock. It was warm, and stiff, and throbbed under Sherlock’s touch. He heard John moan softly, and his eyelashes fluttered.   
“This ok?”   
Sherlock nodded, a smile playing on his lips. John wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s, and began to move it up and down.   
“Mmm...” John hummed happily, his eyes closing.   
Sherlock grew more confident with each pump, his strokes becoming smoother. He watched John closely for his reactions. His eyes were shut, his head was lolled back, cheeks flushed, and his rhythm was becoming less precise.   
“I think I’ve got it.” Sherlock said softly, squeezing the base of John’s cock experimentally.   
John momentarily opened his eyes to nod his head, then released his hand. Sherlock continued his movements, base to tip, and up again. He increased the speed, which appeared to have a very positive effect on John.   
“Agh!”   
The broad teen arched his back, the muscles in his stomach tensing, his chest heaving.   
“I... I think I’m close.” John groaned, his fists balling up the sheets.   
Sherlock moved his hand even faster, his wrist aching.   
“Mmm... Agh... nnnngghhh!”  
John threw his head forward as his cock spasmed, streams of hot, white fluid shooting from the end, on to the bed sheets and Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock grinned as he watched John orgasm in front of him. He’d done that. He’d been the cause of it. He’d made John feel so good.   
“That... I... You... that was really good. Thank you.”’ John breathed heavily.   
He turned his head, and pressed a sloppy kiss to Sherlock’s lips.   
“You’re welcome.”   
John took a moment to catch his breath, then reached over to his bedside table to grab some tissues and wet wipes.   
“Here.” He said, handing a bunch to Sherlock.   
Sherlock wiped his hands of the sticky fluid, then threw the soiled tissues and wipes in the bin.   
“You are very talented at this too.”   
Sherlock blushed, and hid his head in his curls.   
“I mean it. You made me feel so good.”   
John stroked Sherlock’s cheek softly, looking under his curls, and into his eyes.   
“Did I?”   
“Yes.”   
Sherlock felt pleasure course through him at John’s praise, his cock pulsing in his jeans. He hadn’t paid much attention to his own arousal, too focused on pleasing John. Apparently, John hadn’t missed a beat, and after pulling his pants back up, began sliding his hands up Sherlock’s thighs. John attached their lips in a heated kiss, thrusting his tongue in and out of Sherlock’s mouth. The brunette allowed John to roll him backwards into the pillows, and cover his lithe body with his muscular one. That’s when they heard the door open.   
“John, are you home?”  
“Fuck, what the hell is she doing back?” John groaned. He sat back up, and ran a hand through his hair.   
“Shit. Stay here.”   
He pressed a chaste kiss on Sherlock’s moist lips, and walked into the hall.   
“Yeah, mum I’m home. Sherlock and I are playing computer games in my room.”   
“Computer games? That’s slang I’ve never heard.” Sherlock chuckled.   
John grinned, and shook his head, signalling for Sherlock to shush.   
“Oh, sherlocks here? That’s nice darling. Does his mother know he’s here?”   
John turned his head to look at the boy in question. Sherlock nodded.   
“Yeah, she knows.”  
“Oh good. Tell him I say hello.”   
John shut the door, and slumped up against it.   
“I’m sorry about that.” John chuckled.   
“It’s ok. Umm...” He started. “I should probably go home.”  
“Oh, ok. Is it anything I did..?”  
“No, no. I just think your mum might hear more than ‘computer games’.”   
Sherlock looked up at John, a coy smirk on his face.   
“True. You sure you’re ok?” John asked, coming to sit down beside Sherlock.   
“Yes, I’m fine. Walk me home?”   
Johns lips spread into a grin.   
“Of course.”   
Sherlock went home that evening with a his heart hammering in his chest, and a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed.


	18. Dirty bedsheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns the favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, and kinda rushed. Word of advise, don’t start three stories at the same time 😆.

John had stroked himself through three orgasms that night, the memories of the day fresh in his mind. He hadn’t wanted to get out of bed, but school wouldn’t wait for him. The reminder that he would see Sherlock was what finally woke him up. He rolled out of bed, and groggily set about getting ready. He left the house before his mother, or Harriet was back at home, could notice. He spotted Sherlock walking towards the school gates in front of him, head down, lost in thought.   
“Sherlock!”  
The brunette raised his head, and a smile broke on to his face. He ran over to John, and halted in his path before he ran into him.   
“Hello.”  
“Hey.”  
Sherlock smiled flirtatiously, his eyes searching John’s.   
“Your place or mine later?”   
Sherlock blushed softly, ducking his head.   
“Mine?” He giggled. “My parents are out.”  
John licked his lips.   
“Sure. Hey, they don’t know about us yet, do they?”  
“It hasn’t really come up. Mycroft knows though.”  
“Mycroft knows everything.”  
Throughout the day, Sherlock and John snuck cheeky grins, winks, flirty glances, and heated stares. Throughout maths, Sherlock could feel Johns intense gaze on the back of his head. He could hardly keep his focus. When they got back to Sherlock’s house, they all but fell through the door. It was new and exciting, adrenaline coursing through their veins. Keeping their hands off each other was becoming a mundane task. All their pent up desire and attraction for one another had finally been released, and it was exploding like a volcano. As they made their way through the house, John kissed Sherlock’s full lips hungrily, nipping at his lips, thrusting his tongue in and out of his mouth, running his hands all over his lean body.   
“Your parents aren’t coming home any time soon, are they?” John mumbled as they stumbled up the stairs.   
“No.”   
“Thank god.”   
Sherlock steered them into his room, and fell on top of his bed. He very quickly mounted johns hips, straddling his waist.   
“Sherlock...” John moaned softly when the brunette began rocking his hips forward.   
“Arms up.”   
Sherlock did as he was told, raising his arms above his head so John could pull his shirt off. John was rock hard between his legs, Sherlock’s rocking driving him mad. He attacked Sherlock’s creamy skin with his mouth, sucking and biting, nipping, licking, desire overwhelming him.   
“Mmmm...” Sherlock moaned, throwing his head back.   
Carnal lust had his nerves tingling, and every brush of john’s fingers had him reeling. John briefly broke the kiss to pull off his own shirt.   
“Shall I return the favour then?” He whispered.   
Sherlock shuddered, tilting his head towards John. He nodded bashfully, his cheeks heating up.   
“Get your trousers off then.”  
Under his trousers, Sherlock was wearing cotton briefs, where a small damp patch was forming over the crotch.   
“You’re really desperate for this, aren’t you?” John chuckled mirthfully.   
“Yes.”   
Sherlock exhaled a shaky breath. Johns fingers tickled his skin as he pulled his briefs down. John quirked his eyebrows. Sherlock’s cock was a decent length, and as pale as the rest of him, nestled amongst dark curls. John grinned to himself, and licked his lips. Sherlock was the picture of awkward as he watched John’s reaction. When John finally looked back up, his usually gunmetal blue eyes had turned navy with arousal.   
“You’re beautiful.” He said finally.   
Sherlock ducked his head, blushing madly.   
“Look at me, Sherlock.”  
Their eyes met in an intense stare. They were both breathing heavily, lips bruised, and wet, hearts pounding. John could only hold his gaze for a moment before he crashed their lips together again.   
“Is it ok for me to continue?” He husked.   
“More than ok.”   
John pressed his lips up against Sherlock’s, opening the brunette’s mouth with his own. Sherlock gasped in to johns mouth when he felt his hand on his cock.   
“Just say stop if you need me to.”  
Sherlock didn’t say anything, so John continued, slow, gentle stokes from base to tip. Sherlock knew he had little experience to compare this moment too, but it was mind blowing. John kept their lips connected as he pumped his wrist, enjoying the moans and whimpers that Sherlock emitted. He clawed at John’s shoulders as he felt waves of pleasure wash over him.   
Johns pace increased, and so did Sherlock’s pleasure.   
“John...” He moaned, sinking his nails into the blond’s skin.   
“So gorgeous.”   
Sherlock keened into johns touch, his hands moving up to tug at johns hair.   
“Ngghhh.” John groaned.   
John moved his head down to Sherlock’s shoulder, and started placing kisses there, and dipping his tongue into his collarbone.   
Sherlock felt a pressure building, blood roaring in his ears. Before he could process what was happening, the cord in his abdomen snapped, and his vision went white as he finished all over himself. John couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful Sherlock was in this moment. So beautiful, and all his. He snapped back to reality when he heard Sherlock clear his throat.   
“Sorry.” John chuckled as he wiped his hands off on Sherlock’s bed sheets.   
Sherlock smiled nervously, and bowed his head.   
“Sorry I didn’t say anything to warn you.” He blushed.   
“You’re so cute. I don’t mind. You just might want to wash your bedsheets.”   
Sherlock giggled, and nestled his head in johns chest. Most of his semen had gone on the sheets, his thighs, or johns hand.   
“I don’t have wipes in here. I should probably take a shower in all honesty. Are you ok here?” Sherlock asked as he stood up to grab for his dressing gown.   
“I’m fine.”  
John smiled warmly up at him, and pulled him down for a chaste kiss.   
“Be quick in there. No funny business.” He teased.   
Sherlock blushed, and shook his head.   
“I’ll only be a minute.”  
“I’ll be waiting right here for you.”  
Sherlock blew John a cheeky kiss before slipping away into the bathroom, leaving John alone with his thoughts. This was amazing; being with Sherlock was amazing. Why did he allow himself to talk himself out of his feelings, why did he deny that he liked him for so long? He’d never been so happy. Sherlock made him happy. These were some of the thoughts that ran through his head as he waited, alone in Sherlock’s room. That was when he heard keys in the door, and two voices. One was unmistakably Mycroft’s. And the other was a girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you’d like a one shot of mycroft and this ‘girl’, because obviously I should have four stories on the go 😆.


	19. Thin walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John overhear more than they bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it’s kind of out of character for mycroft to bring a girl home, but from  
> What he said in ASIB, I get the sense he’s not a virgin... anyway, enjoy!   
> P.S both John and Sherlock are now 16.

Sherlock returned to his room after a quick shower, clothes hanging off his damp form, hair wet, towel around his shoulders. When he opened the door, John had his head pressed against the wall.   
“What are you doing?”   
John was grinning from ear to ear as he answered.   
“Mycroft’s got a girl in his room.”  
Sherlock quirked his eyebrows.   
“What?” He asked, his normally sharp mind still a little fuzzy from earlier.   
“He came home just after you got in the shower, and he brought a girl with him!”   
“Are you sure? Mycroft never talks to women. The last women he spoke to was at a drive through where she asked if he wanted fries with his Big Mac.”   
“I’m positive!” John whisper shouted. “Put your head against your wall if you don’t believe me.”   
Sherlock walked over to where John was standing, and pressed his ear to the wall. Two voices. One was Mycroft, and the was indeed a girl.   
“Well. That’s never happened before.” Sherlock made his way over to the door.   
“Where are you going?”  
“I’m going to confront him.” He shrugged.   
“This is going to be good.” John mumbled to himself as he watched from the doorway.   
Sherlock walked down the hall, and knocked on Mycroft’s door. The older teenager opened the door, an irritated expression on his face.   
“Why are you Here?” He barked.   
Sherlock furrowed his brows in curiosity.   
“I live here.”   
“No, I mean why are you here now? I thought you were going to John’s.” He said through gritted teeth.   
“That was one of the options, but we decided to come here instead.”   
Mycroft let out a sigh, and ran a hand through his sandy blond fringe.   
“Who’s this?” Sherlock asked, pointing to the girl on Mycroft’s bed.   
“Not now Sherlock.”   
“Regardless of whether I was going out or not, neither is an excuse for you to invite a girl over to have intercourse with.” Sherlock protested as his brother tried to push him out of the way.   
“How do you figure that? How do you know we’re not studying?”   
Sherlock drew his lips in to a line, his eyebrows arched. ‘Really, dumbass?’ He thought to himself.   
“There is a girl in your room, your hair is mused, your shirt is buttoned wrong, and your neck is covered with hickeys.” Sherlock inhaled sharply. “Need I go on.”   
Mycroft visibly tensed his shoulders.   
“Please go away.”   
“Fine.” Sherlock sighed. “She seems like a nice girl, I won’t tell Mum and dad she was here, there’s left over stir fry for you in the fridge, please don’t have intercourse while I’m still in the house. Afternoon.” Sherlock quipped.   
Regardless of what he and John had been doing, he didn’t really want to hear what Mycroft and this girl had planned. John was stood by the door, his eyebrows practically ascending into his hairline.   
“Well then.”   
“There definitely is a girl in there.” Sherlock mused.   
“Told you. He is right though.”  
Sherlock turned to look John, his eyes questioning.   
“You really don’t have boundaries.”   
Sherlock sighed in exasperation, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.   
“Sherlock! Go out! There’s £20 in my coat pocket, take John out for dinner!” They heard Mycroft yell through the wall.   
Sherlock rolled his eyes.   
“You go out!”   
“You can do what you’re doing in a café, we can’t!” The girl’s voice shouted his time.   
John and Sherlock exchanged a glance somewhere between horrified and amused.   
“We’re not leaving!”   
There was no response for a moment, then they heard the girl shouting again.   
“Oh, god! Oh, Mycroft! Oh, you’re so big! Yeah, oh god, right there! Harder!”   
Both Sherlock and john’s eyes went wide.   
“That was fast.” John said, his gaze switching between Sherlock and the wall.   
“Yes, she’ll probably be saying that too in a few minutes.”  
John stifled a chuckle. They both grimaced as they heard Mycroft join in.   
“Oh! Ah! Oh, god! Yes, yes yes!”   
Despite what he was hearing, Sherlock still managed a laugh when John pretended to throw up.   
“Maybe we should go out.” John stated.  
“Oh god!”   
“Yes definitely.” Sherlock said quickly, then grabbed John by the hand, and dragged him into the hall.   
“Use protection!” John shouted as they walked passed Mycroft’s room. The pair chuckled as they ran down the stairs, and out the door.   
“I didn’t think Mycroft was interested in.. well... people.” John shrugged as they walked.   
“He’s not. I guess he just found someone who also has no interest in emotional attachment. ‘Purely physical’” Sherlock said in quotations.   
“I see. Anyways I feel like I need to scrub my brain out with bleach.” John chuckled.   
“Will coffee do? To drink, not to pour on your brain.   
John laughed, and affectionately bumped Sherlock with his shoulder.   
“Coffee sounds good.”   
Sherlock reached into his pocket, and pulled out a 20 pound note.   
“Excellent. Mycroft’s buying.”


	20. Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John get their revenge on Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

“What if they’re still doing stuff?”   
“Please, you really think he can last that long?” Sherlock grumbled, not really wanting to think about his brothers sex life, but wasn’t willing to let an opportunity to mock him pass by.   
John grimaced, and hesitantly followed Sherlock in to the house.   
“Her coats gone. If he is still doing stuff, it’s on his own.”   
John marvelled at Sherlock’s bluntness, but trailed after him into the living room all the same.   
“You want to watch TV?”  
“It seems that all we do is watch TV.” John mused.   
“You know I don’t even watch TV when you’re not here?” Sherlock chuckled as he curled up in the crook of John’s arm.   
“Does that make me special?” John teased, poking Sherlock’s cheek which had since flushed pink.   
“Yes.” He said, coyly grinning up at him.   
He smiled against johns lips as they engaged in a passionate kiss. He gasped when John pulled him up to straddle his lap, pulling him as close as he could. Sherlock supported his weight on his knees as he leant forwards to catch Johns lips in another kiss. When he sat back, he could feel John’s hardening member beneath him. He couldn’t help but grin when he heard John’s breath hitch. He began experimenting rolling his hips forwards, rubbing against johns erection with every move, causing maddening friction from his jeans against his hole.   
“John...” he gasped in pleasure as he threw his head back.   
He moaned when he felt John attach his lips to the base of his throat, a moan that turned in to a squeak when johns hands cupped his ass, moving his hips faster.   
“God you’re so hot.” John panted, moving his head forwards to mouth at Sherlock’s jaw.   
“You make me so fucking horny.”   
John couldn’t help it as his hips began bucking up to meet Sherlock’s, thrusting his clothed cock between Sherlock’s thighs.   
“Joh- oh fuck.” Sherlock groaned, his head lolling, lips parted in bliss. “Don’t- ah- stop!”  
John silenced him with his mouth as he crashed their lips together. He ran his hands up Sherlock’s back, then gently clawed at his skin as he dragged them back down.   
“Mmmmm!” Sherlock moaned in to his mouth, providing John with an opportunity to slip his tongue past Sherlock’s lips.   
John explored every inch of Sherlock’s mouth, their tongues fighting for dominance. Sherlock could feel heat pooling between his legs, pre-cum dampening the front of his briefs. He pulled away from the kiss for breath, becoming so turned on that he was practically gulping for air. While they were disconnected, Sherlock ran his hands down johns chest, then pulled his shirt off to reveal johns gorgeously toned chest. He dipped his head to press his lips against johns collarbone, making the older boy gasp out a moan. Sherlock moved back up to kiss johns lips again, their teeth gently clacking together.   
“Oh john!” Sherlock moaned when he felt Johns hand in between their legs.   
He could feel more fluid leaking from his cock, his underwear undoubtedly soaked. John was getting so turned on by the noises Sherlock was making, and by the sight of him rocking his hips, throwing his head back, his lips parted in a silent scream. John moved to place his lips on the sweet spot where Sherlock’s ear and jaw met.   
“John I-ah!” Sherlock gasped, squeezing Johns shoulders violently.   
John pulled his hand out from between them, and tangled it in Sherlock’s curls instead.   
“Joh- Agh!”  
He felt Sherlock’s whole body seize up suddenly, a long, drawn out whine escaping him. A wet sensation spread to the front of his jeans. Sherlock had cum all over himself, his ejaculate soaking both their jeans. Sherlock stilled completely, his breathing shaky. He looked so small as he sat in John’s lap, clearly embarrassed about what had happened.   
“That was so fucking sexy.” John sighed honestly, his cock throbbing even more than before, clearly Sherlock cumming in his pants was a real turn on for him. Sherlock looked up at him with wide eyes, his cheeks flushed, his lips glistening with saliva.   
“I- really?” He asked innocently.   
“Yes. So much so that you nearly got me to cum in my pants too.”   
Sherlock giggled nervously, looking up at John through his lashes.   
“Why don’t we get cleaned up?”   
Sherlock nodded, then dismounted John. The blond chuckled as the other boy squirmed in discomfort as they walked up the stairs to the bathroom.   
“How much do you reckon Mycroft heard?”   
Sherlock had completely forgotten about his brother, and all but fell through the bathroom door in a fit of giggles.


	21. The cleaner’s cupboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John realises he has a thing for Sherlock in P.E. uniform, and he can’t go home to deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Sherlock was sat in the courtyard waiting for John. John wasn’t exactly the most punctual person on Earth, but he wasn’t very later either. Sherlock felt his heart beat increase upon spotting the blond a few yards away.   
“John!”   
He turned to face Sherlock, and a smile lit up on his face.   
“Hey.”   
John looked at Sherlock from under his brows, and poked his tongue out to lick his lips, an action that made Sherlock weak at the knees. No, no, this was school. A place of learning. ‘Yes, learning how to best pleasure your boyfriend’ said the little voice in Sherlock’s head.   
“You Alright?” John chuckled, lightly thumping Sherlock’s arm.   
“What? Yes, yes I’m fine. Just... tired.” He nodded, not sure if he was trying to convince John or himself of this. The bell rang before John could ask anymore questions.   
“Come on then.”  
Sherlock followed him in to the school, dread already filling him. It was P.E. today.

Three hours later, the final class before break, and Sherlock was sat on the floor of the sports hall, waiting for the game of dodge ball from which he’d been eliminated to finish. He hated being in here. Everyone was an absolute meat head. They were always meatheads, but the locker room atmosphere made it worse. The P.E. teacher also added to his hatred. He was the epitome of creepy, the typical cliche of P.E. teachers, where you’re not sure if they want to eat you or fuck you. Sherlock knew exactly what this teacher wanted to do to him, and it terrified him.   
“Alright, get out of here.” Coach Magnussen barked.  
“Mr Holmes!”   
Sherlock stopped in his tracks, his blood running cold.   
“Yes sir?”  
“Take these outside to the football grounds.”   
He dropped an armful of foam football in Sherlock’s arms.   
He didn’t need to be told twice. He walked briskly out in to the courtyard. He then remembered then that John had football. He quickened his pace, and hurried over to the football grounds. He spotted John doing ‘keepy-upies’ across the field.   
“What do you want?”   
He turned to look at Coach Davis. Now, Sherlock was normally never intimidated, but Coach Davis was built like a tank, and Sherlock was built like a noodle.   
“Coach Magnussen asked me to bring these out to you.”  
He took the footballs from Sherlock without a thank you, then effectively shooed him away.   
“Hey.”  
Sherlock spun around to see John, clad in full football gear, shoes coated in mud, sweat dotting his forehead. Sherlock felt his train of thought dithering as he stared at John.   
“Hi.” He garbled out, singular syllables being the only words he could manage.   
“What are you doing out here?” John chuckled, clearly pleased to see him.   
“Just returning some balls.”   
John furrowed his brows, but he didn’t question it further. Besides, he was a little distracted by Sherlock’s attire. Tight fitting white t-shirt, cute little shorts, sexy long legs, white sneakers... John felt his cock stirring in his boxers. He snapped his eyes back up to Sherlock’s face.   
“Ahem. I... mmm.”   
Sherlock was regarding John with a quizzical expression. The boy in question was definitely close to being half hard now. He’d have to do something before anyone noticed.   
“Let’s get out of here.”   
John grabbed Sherlock’s arm, and steered him across the field.   
“John, What is going on?” Sherlock asked when John finally let go of him.   
“I... umm...” John looked away, and down at the floor. “I have a boner.”   
Sherlock’s expression was one of amusement and surprise as he looked at John.   
“Why?”   
“Because- Ugh, you. You and that fucking outfit.” John sighed in exasperation.   
“Really? My P.E. kit? They really shouldn’t allow kids to wear these.” Sherlock chortled.   
“It’s not funny.”   
“No, of course not.”  
John narrowed his eyes at him, but a smirk tugged at his lips regardless.   
“I have to ummm... go deal with this.” John trailed off awkwardly.   
“I could help.”   
John’s head shot up upon hearing Sherlock’s offer.   
“What?”   
“I could... deal with it for you.”   
Sherlock was grinning coyly at him, tilting his head in the cute manner he often did.   
“You really wanna?” John smirked, the idea of messing around at school somewhat thrilling.   
“There’s a cleaner here that never locks the door to his cupboards. He’s always high. Marital problems. Honestly, this school is a disaster.”   
John and Sherlock chuckled as they located the cupboard in question.   
“Unlocked.” John smiled as he pulled Sherlock in after him.   
It was a small space, shelves lining the walls, packed with cleaning products. As Sherlock closed the door, he realised how close he and John were. As of now, his back was up against johns chest, and his ass was pressed in to johns groin. He slowly turned around, trying not to knock in to the toilet rolls by his right shoulder.   
“Hi there.”   
“Hi.” Sherlock giggled as he looked over at John.   
Their bodies were so close, Sherlock could feel Johns heart beating by his shoulder blade, and his warm breath on his neck. He moaned when he felt Johns lips follow, trailing kisses from the sweet spot under his ear down to his collar bone.   
Sherlock eventually managed to get his body to follow his head, turning completely in Johns arms, and capturing his face in his hands. When their lips connected, it was hot, and passionate. John could feel that Sherlock was also getting turned on, his erection pressing in to his hip. They were flushed together, breathing each other’s air when they pulled away from the kiss. John was pressed up against the wall, holding Sherlock to him by his hips.   
“This is so hot.” He husked. “Fooling around at school.”   
“I know.” Sherlock gasped out before John’s lips were on his again.   
John couldn’t get enough of him. He wanted to touch every inch of him, kiss every inch of him. He moved his hands down Sherlock’s body, lightly raking his skin with his nails.   
“Mmmm...” Sherlock groaned softly.   
John proceeded to move his hands down to Sherlock’s ass, pulling him flush against him.   
“Oh!” Sherlock gasped as he felt Johns erection pressing even further in to his thigh.   
He couldn’t help but marvel at how surreal this all was. A few months ago, he was a loser who got beaten up, and called names, a freak with no friends. Then he met John. John, who changed his world. And now, he was in a janitors cupboard with his tongue down John’s throat.   
“God, I want to do things to you.” John groaned as he brought his hand down in between their bodies.   
Sherlock bucked in to johns hand, a small moan escaping him.   
“I know you do.” Sherlock cooed, swiping his tongue along the shell of Johns ear.   
“But right now, I’m going to do things to you.”   
Sherlock surprised himself as the words fell from his lips. And they were both surprised as Sherlock sank to his knees in front of John.   
“Sherlock...”  
“I want to. May I?”  
“Only you would use correct grammar here.” John chuckled. “And yes, yes you may.”  
Sherlock grinned as he gingerly pulled johns football shorts and boxers down. This was weirdly familiar. But this time, he wasn’t going to screw up. He paused a moment to admire john’s cock, fully erect, and leaking pre-cum. Sherlock felt his dick throb, and his mouth water. He could do this. He could do this. He wanted to do this. He made sure John was watching as he moved his head closer, and experimentally darted his tongue out to lick the tip. John tasted interesting. It wasn’t unpleasant at all, just bizarre.   
“Oh god...” The athlete groaned, his eyes closing instantaneously.   
Sherlock was pleased with this reaction, and took it as his cue to continue. He opened his mouth, and enveloped his lips around the mushroom head.   
“Oh!” John gasped, throwing his head back.   
He’d never been touched like this before, and it was getting him close to the edge faster than he wanted it to.   
Johns cock was hot, and pulsing inside Sherlock’s mouth, pre cum tricking on to his tongue in a steady stream.   
“Mmmm!”   
John wanted nothing more than to buck his hips, and ram his cock down Sherlock’s throat as he looked at the blue eyed beauty before him. He’d forced himself to open his eyes, not wanting to miss the sight of Sherlock’s lips around his cock. He never wanted to forget that.   
It took Sherlock a moment, but once he was accustomed to the weird sensation of having johns cock in his mouth, he began to bob his head up and down. He had about two thirds of Johns cock in his mouth when he felt the tip hit the back of his throat. He moved his head back momentarily, not wanting to gag, but continued his rhythm after a short pause. It was becoming a rather pleasant experience him, his arousal spiking, his nerves tingling. He was achingly hard himself, but he wouldn’t allow that to distract him from John, who was defiantly finding this more than pleasant. He was in ecstasy, head thrown back, moans of pleasure racking his body.   
“Sherlock...” He groaned, his pelvis bucking forward involuntarily.   
Sherlock looked at him through his dark lashes, and hollowed his cheeks.   
“Oh fuck...”   
John’s voice was deep, and strained, and it had Sherlock soaking his boxers.   
“I’m gonna... oh sherlock... you’re going to make me- ah- cum- oh!” John groaned, followed by a mumbled string of profanities when he saw that Sherlock didn’t remove his mouth, and instead, carried on bobbing his head. He then experimentally swallowed around johns cock. It was clearly the right thing to do, as john’s whole body spasmed suddenly, and a low, strangled moan of Sherlock’s name escaped him as he came in to the brunettes mouth. Sherlock gagged as the hot, salty fluid rushed down his throat. He pulled away, then looked up at John, and swallowed. This boy was going to be death of him.   
“Fuck.” John sighed, and slid down the wall so he was level with Sherlock.   
“Fucking hell, baby that was so hot.”   
He pulled the rather dazed teen in to a kiss, then quickly pulled back, wrinkling his nose.  
“What?”   
“You taste like cum.” John chortled, grimacing at the statement.   
He’d never tasted it before, and he certainly never though the first he tried would be his own.   
He chuckled when Sherlock cringed.   
“Shit. I just got a blow job in a cupboard.”   
Sherlock turned crimson.   
“Crap, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”  
Sherlock giggled, and fell against johns shoulder.   
“You know...” John cooed in Sherlock’s ear. “We’re going to have to do this again sometime.”  
“I better get ready to have sore knees then.”   
John guffawed, and affectionately bumped Sherlock with his head.  
“Oh fuck.”  
“What?” Sherlock asked, alarm plain on his face.   
“English started five minutes ago.”   
“Shit.”  
Sherlock’s arousal flatlined.   
“We gotta go.”  
John quickly did his fly back up, and tucked his shirt back in as he got to his feet.   
“I’ll have to go in my kit. Damnit.” Sherlock grumbled as he turned to grab the door handle.   
“Hang on.” John said, grabbing his wrist to stop him from opening the door.   
“What?”   
“Come here.”  
Sherlock giggled against johns lips as he pulled him for another kiss.   
“Now, tonight... I want you to think about this moment.... while you pleasure yourself.”   
Sherlock shuddered against John. He could feel himself getting hard again. Fuck. 

John couldn’t help but smirk to himself as he watched Sherlock squirming, one seat over, one row in front, knowing all the while that he was the reason. It was extremely hot. He knew very well what he’d be fantasising about tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John, you bastard 😆


	22. Jeans, judgement, and jam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets lonely and calls John over at stupid o’clock in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a humourous chapter here. Comment if you’d like a first Valentine’s Day chapter.

*ring ring* *ring ring*  
John groggily prised his eyes open, the sunlight glaring through his curtains.  
“Fucking hell...” he grumbled as he rolled over to look for his phone.  
“Jesus...” he sighed in a cross between exasperation and pleasure as he felt his morning wood press in to the mattress.  
He saw Sherlock’s caller ID pop up on his phone, still buzzing away on his bed side table.  
“What the fuck do you want?” He grumbled.  
“Morning John.” Sherlock chirped back, seemingly up phased.  
“It’s six o’clock.”  
“Yes. Why are you telling me the time?”  
“It’s Saturday.” John groaned as he sat up, rubbing a hand through his unruly hair.  
“Yes. Are you going to tell me the date as well?”  
“Why are you calling me so early?” John asked through a yawn.  
Normally he was thrilled to hear from Sherlock, but mornings were not his thing in the slightest.  
“I want to see you.”  
John felt his heart melting at Sherlock’s soft tone.  
“Alright.”  
He stretched his arms up to stretch out his muscles, making sure to groan loud enough for Sherlock to hear.  
“Can you come over now?”  
John rubbed his eyes, still not fully awake.  
“Sure. Give me fifteen minutes.”  
He then dropped his eyes down to the part of him that was more than awake, probably even more now that he’d spoken to Sherlock.  
“Make that 30 minutes.”  
“Ok.”  
Sherlock hung up, leaving John alone with his left hand, a bottle of lotion, and his imagination. Normally he would just take a cold shower, but he knew that if he didn’t get rid of this energy, he’d likely ravish Sherlock before he could even close the front door. He began to move his wrist up and down as thoughts of the curly haired boy raced around his mind. It didn’t take long for him to reach his climax, doubling over in intense pleasure as he shot his load on to the bedsheets. They needed to be washed anyway. He fell back panting, his eyes rolling in to the back of his head. He lay there for a moment to catch his breath.  
“Nope.” He grumbled as felt himself dozing off again.  
“Shit.”  
He only had ten minutes to get down the road to Sherlock’s. He also had to get dressed and eat something. He cleaned himself up, then quickly pulled on a fresh pair of boxers.  
“Jeans... jeans... where the fuck are my jeans?”  
He finally located a pair, and jumped in to them, struggling to get his feet through the leg holes. After falling backwards on to the bed, he managed to wriggle in to them. He sprayed himself with deodorant and body spray, then raced in to the hall.  
“Where the fuck are you going so early? And with out a shirt?”  
Harriet was leant against her door frame wrapped in a dressing gown, clearly having just awoken up herself. John looked down and saw that he was indeed shirtless. It was a fact Sherlock would probably appreciate, but maybe not the rest of the town.  
“No where. Somewhere. Anywhere. You’re going somewhere.”  
Harriet quirked her eyebrows in amusement as she watched her flustered little brother, clearly having caught him going somewhere he’d rather not say.  
“Oh shut up.” He mumbled as he slipped back in to his room to grab a T-shirt.  
“Seriously, where the fuck are my clothes?!” He exclaimed as he rifled through his draws.  
He grabbed the nearest item that resembled a t-shirt that turned out to be his football hoodie.  
“Off to see Sherlock?”  
“Fuck off Harry.”  
John ran down the stairs two at a time, then in to the kitchen.  
“Just platonic?”  
Harriet teased as she followed John through the house.  
“Fuck off Harry.” John hissed, shoving a breakfast muffin in his mouth.  
“I’m not judging. Just curious.”  
“Can you be fucking off?”  
“You’re very creative this time of the morning, aren’t you?”  
John didn’t answer due to the last mouthful of muffin, so he gave her the finger instead. He put on his shoes, grabbed his phone, and hurried out the door before Harriet could ask anymore questions. 

“Sherlock, pass me the jam please.”  
“Nope.”  
“Sherlock.”  
Mycroft was glaring at Sherlock over his newspaper.  
“Get it yourself. Consider it your daily exercise.” Sherlock said with a wink as he crammed a bite of toast in to his mouth.  
“Don’t be a prat. Now pass it to me.”  
Sherlock got up, and grabbed the jam from the counter. He sat back down with it, and went back to staring at his phone.  
“Oh for- sherlock, give me the jam! You don’t even want it.”  
It was true, Sherlock didn’t want the jam. But it was no longer a container of preserved fruits. It was now a means with which to torture his brother.  
“Sherlock!”  
Mycroft startled Sherlock when he lunged across the table so much so that both he and the jam fell to the floor.  
“What in gods name are you two doing?”  
Mrs Holmes appeared in the door way, eyes wide at the sight of her two teenage sons having the first physical fight they’d had since Sherlock was six years old, which ended in him being shoved in to a chest of draws after he’d whacked Mycroft with a wooden sword. Mycroft was now sprawled over the table, newspaper discarded on the floor, and sherlock, also on the floor, was covered in jam.  
“Sherlock, you’re 16 years old.” She said pointedly to the curly haired boy as he pulled himself back on to the chair.  
“And Mycroft.”  
She turned to look at her eldest son.  
“You’ll be off the university after the summer. You both have exceedingly high IQs, and here you are at the bloody breakfast table fighting over a bloody jar of bloody fruit compot!”  
“It’s jam-“  
“Not the time!” She snapped, silencing Sherlock.  
Mycroft chuckled, but cut himself off when his mother turned to glare at him. She was the only person Mycroft listened to.  
“Clear this up, and sort yourselves out. And honestly Mycroft? The daily mail? Really?”  
Mycroft stuck his tongue out at his brother when he heard him giggling. Sherlock also stuck out his tongue in retaliation.  
“Gave up mathematics to have children. That was totally worth it.” Mrs Holmes grumbled to herself as she disappeared down the hall.  
“Oh bloody hell. Sherlock your little friend is here.”  
“But I-“  
“No, go on. Open the door looking like a worker who had an accident at the Hartley’s factory.”  
Sherlock exhaled a breath of exasperation, and trudged down the hall.  
“Don’t ask.” He shot before John could even register what he was seeing.  
“How though?” John asked finally.  
“Mycroft’s a prick.”  
John shrugged his shoulder, seemingly satisfied with this answer, and followed Sherlock in to the living room.  
“Hello Mrs Holmes.”  
“Hello, dear.”  
“Sherlock.” Mrs Holmes turned to look at her son.  
“Offer your friend a drink.”  
Sherlock huffed his now sticky fringe out of his face.  
“Would you like a drink?”  
“Yeah, Alright. Cheers.”  
Sherlock suspected John was playing along with the soul purpose of being difficult. He stomped out of the room, and down the hall. John turned to Mrs Holmes, and revealed why he effectively threw Sherlock out of the room.  
“So.. what actually happened to him?”  
“Oh, he’s basically a toddler.”  
John chuckled as Mrs Holmes explained. “Him and the other one are always getting in to fights. Although they’re not normally that of the food throwing kind. Normally verbal, you see. And I must say, I’ve heard some very interesting insults.”  
They heard a clang of pots and a shout from the kitchen before Sherlock reappeared in the doorway.  
“Teas on the table. I’m going to get washed.” He said, amusement faint in his voice.  
Both John and Mrs Holmes watched him with caution as he dragged himself up the stairs before going in to the kitchen.  
“John.”  
John turned to look at Mycroft who had what looked like porridge on his head. The older boy simply nodded his head in greeting, then sauntered away, ignoring the glances of confusion from both his mother and John. 

Sherlock eventually reappeared, sans the jam, and slumped down in the chair next to John.  
“So, a food fight?”  
“Shut up, John.”


	23. LOVEcats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John realises the extent of his feelings for Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty and fluffy. Enjoy!

“Do you want to stay over tonight?”  
John glanced down at Sherlock the best he could to where the curly haired teen was resting on his shoulder.   
“Why...?”  
“Sleep overs are fun. Apparently.” Sherlock shrugged.   
John chortled.   
“Yeah ok.”  
“I mean you have stayed before. But I suppose it’ll be more... fun... when you’re not sad.”  
Sherlock lifted his head, and rested his chin on John’s chest.   
“I suppose you’re right. Do you wanna ask your mum then?”  
Sherlock sat up, and stretched his arms up.   
“Not particularly, but I guess I’ll have to. Alright, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”   
Sherlock went to leave the bed, but John grabbed him by the wrists, and pulled him back down.   
“What are you doing?” Sherlock giggled.   
“This.”   
Sherlock smiled against John’s lips as they exchanged a kiss.   
“I won’t be long.”  
John finally released him, and allowed him to go downstairs.   
“My mother’s exact words were ‘oh fabulous. We can order pizza.’ I’m not quite sure why she thinks we can’t have pizza if we don’t have guests...”  
John chuckled, and shook his head.   
“I’ll just text my mum. We can swing by there later so I can grab some things. I’m not wearing your pyjamas again. I looked like an absolute prat.” John grinned as he typed away on his phone.   
Sherlock rolled his eyes, and crawled back on to his bed.   
“They did smell nice though.”  
Sherlock giggled, and dropped his head back down on johns chest, snuggling in to his side.   
“You wanna listen to some music?”  
John presented Sherlock with one ear bud from his headphones.   
“Alright.”  
“What sort of music do you like?”  
“I don’t.”  
John chuckled.   
“Alright, I’ll pick anything then.”  
Sherlock took the bud from him, almost cautiously. An odd combination of clicking, meowing, and humming reached his ears.   
“You look really confused.” John smirked.   
“It’s the Cure. Love cats. It’s a good song.”  
“Right...”  
“Just shhh.” John quipped. “And listen.”  
Sherlock did as he was told, and closed his eyes as the tune continued.   
“Well?” John asked when the song finished.   
Sherlock chewed the inside of his cheek.   
“I think we should listen to it again. You know, to have a further understanding of it.”  
John bit back a laugh.   
“Sure, sure.”  
He hit replay, and grinned to himself when he saw Sherlock lightly bobbing his head in time to the beat.   
“Give me your hand.”  
Sherlock opened his eyes to look at John quizzically.   
“What? Why?”   
“Just give me your hand.”  
He offered John his hand, and squealed somewhat indignantly as the blond pulled him to his feet. John disconnected his headphones, and turned the volume up as loud as possible. Before Sherlock could comprehend what was happening, John was spinning him round, twirling him, effectively forcing him to dance.  
“Love cats, bah dah buh dah buh da bu dah buh.”  
John was humming along to the lyrics as they danced, bobbing his head in time. He’d been holding both of Sherlock’s hands but he’d brought them down to rest on Sherlock’s hips, swaying them to the music. Sherlock giggled, not resisting in the slightest, putty in John’s hands. The last chorus ended, and John dipped Sherlock backwards like at the end of the tango. Sherlock was giggling when John brought him back up, and pressed a rather enthusiastic kiss to his lips. They fell on to Sherlock’s bed in a fit of laughter, Sherlock sprawled out on John’s chest.   
John affectionately booped Sherlock’s nose with his before licking it.   
“Hey!” Sherlock giggled, thumping johns chest.   
John rolled him over, and pinned him beneath him.   
“Mmmm... I like having you like this.” John smirked, trailing his hand down sherlock’s body.   
The slighter teen shivered and arched his back at the touch. John leant in to capture his lips in a kiss. He opened his mouth, opening Sherlock’s with it, and slipped his tongue past his lips. Sherlock moaned appreciatively, and moved his tongue to role over John’s. Johns tongue was warm and wet as it explored his mouth, the faint taste of blueberry evident. He groaned when John drew his bottom lip between his teeth, lightly tugging. John pulled back to kiss all down Sherlock’s neck, mouthing, sucking, biting.   
“Oh fuck...”  
Sherlock never normally swore, only in their more intimate moments. For now, just having him groaning profanities at the back of his throat was enough for John, but he wanted to have him screaming them in pleasure. Sherlock had his eyes squeezed shut and his fingers tangled in johns hair as the older boy abused his neck. He locked his ankles round johns ass, pulling him close. He moved his hands from Johns hair to grab at his hoodie.   
“Are you wearing anything under this?” Sherlock queried as he fisted it up.   
“No... I didn’t have time to find a shirt this morning... I was a little... occupied.” John panted against Sherlock’s skin.   
“Mmmmm...” Sherlock moaned at John’s suggestive tone.  
He managed to pull johns shirt over his head, musing his hair so it was spiked up at all angles. Sherlock licked his lips as he stared up at John. John reconnected their lips, kissing Sherlock fiercely.   
“Boys! Dinner!”  
They pulled apart with a sigh.   
“Guess we’d better go down.”  
“Unfortunately.” Sherlock grumbled.   
John reclaimed his hoodie, and slipped it on over his head.   
“Come on then.”  
John pressed one last kiss to Sherlock’s head before the pair awkwardly jogged down the stairs.   
Mrs Holmes was stood by the stove, with Mycroft hovering over her like a cake tormented vulture.  
“Dinner will just be a second- ooo.”  
Mrs Holmes said slowly, her eyes drifting down Sherlock’s form.  
“What’s that on your neck, darling?”  
Sherlock and John locked eyes in a fearful exchange.   
“Nothing. I mean... I got a bruise during P.E. It’s nothing.” Sherlock said hastily, trying to pull his shirt further up his neck.  
John had never seen him so flustered before. It was fair to say he was rather amused. Mycroft as usual didn’t buy their bullshit, and gave them a look half way between amusement and disapproval as he disappeared in to the living room with his dinner. When Sherlock sat down, John leant over to whisper in his ear.   
“I guess I’ll have to start giving you hickeys where no one else will ever see them.”  
Sherlock shivered. John grinned to himself, and moved back to his seat.   
“Ok, here you go.”  
“Thanks Mrs Holmes.”  
“Thanks mum.”  
“So, John are you two going to pop to yours for a change of clothes?” Mrs Holmes asked.   
“Yeah, we’ll go by after dinner. Thanks again for letting me stay.”  
“No problem dear.”  
Sherlock squeaked suddenly when he felt Johns hand on his inner thigh. Thankfully, no one noticed. Sherlock chewed the inside of his cheek as he tried to refrain from either giggling or moaning. John wasn’t sure. He moved his hand further up, and Sherlock closed his eyes. John could feel Sherlock hardening through his jeans as they finished off their dinner. As time went on, Sherlock was finding it harder and harder to concentrate, and John was finding it harder not to laugh. Sherlock was clenching his chair by the time his mum finally took their plates away.   
“We’re just going upstairs for a moment, then we’ll be straight out.” Sherlock said quickly before escaping from the room as fast as he could before his mother could notice his little problem. John quickly scurried after him, and chased him up the stairs. Sherlock desperately attacked his lips as soon as they were in his room. John responded quickly, opening his mouth to provide Sherlock full access. Sherlock brought his arms up to wrap around johns neck. He was so turned on from John’s teasing. He wanted John to touch him, kiss him, pleasure him. John placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips, and pushed him against the door. The brunette gasped out a moan as his back hit the wood. John was in between his legs in an instant, his erection painfully obvious as it poked into Sherlock’s leg.   
“John... ah...”   
Sherlock yanked off John’s hoodie exposing his toned chest. He ran his hands down John’s back, lightly raking his tanned skin with his nails.   
“Mmmmm...” John groaned low in his throat.   
He moved his lips down to Sherlock’s neck, and began sucking hard at his pulse point. Sherlock moaned loudly, and threw his head back in pleasure. His moans only got louder as John began to role his hips forward. John brought his lips back up to Sherlock’s, plunging his tongue in to the other boy’s mouth. It was hot, wet, and passionate, tongues dancing, fighting, tasting each other, exploring every inch. John was now forcefully bucking his hips against Sherlock’s, making the door clatter loudly each time John forced his body up against it.   
“Oh fuck... we have to...” Sherlock gestured blindly to the door behind him, steering John to the wall by his shoulders. “Jump up.” The blond panted, staring at Sherlock with intense desire.   
Sherlock jumped, and wrapped his legs around johns waist. Josh pinned him to the wall adjacent to the door with his hips, keeping Sherlock trapped between the wall and his muscular body.   
“Agh!” Sherlock cried out, throwing his head back again as John returned to desperately rutting up against him.   
“God... John- oh Christ!” He moaned as their bodies ground against each other.   
John brought his hands back down to cup sherlock’s ass, squeezing firmly.   
“I’m close- oh fuck... mmnnghh- oh...”  
Sherlock’s eyes were squeezed shut as John continued to dry hump him.   
“John... I- ah!”   
He bit down on Johns shoulder as his orgasm hit him, waves and waves of pleasure crashing down around him. It didn’t take very much to send Sherlock over the edge, but that didn’t make it any less rewarding. John couldn’t help but moan as well as he watched Sherlock come apart. Sherlock was in too much pleasure to pay any mind to the fact that this was now the second time John had made him cum in his underwear.   
“Fuck...” he said simply when he finally came down from his high.   
In his dazed state, he still managed to attach his lips to johns, swiping his tongue along them, asking for entrance. John kissed him back with passion, thrusting his tongue in to Sherlock’s mouth with hunger. He was painfully hard between his legs, and he was in desperate need of release. Sherlock seemed to be following his train of thought when he spun them around, pushing John up against the wall.   
“Ah!” He groaned when Sherlock immediately pushed their bodies flushed together. The brunette moved his lips down to johns neck, biting and sucking. John moaned loudly as Sherlock continued his decent down his body, slowly sinking to his knees as he went.   
“Oh Christ.” John groaned when Sherlock reached up to pull his trousers down.   
His cock sprung free, red and pulsing, dripping pre cum. Although Sherlock had only seen johns cock twice before, he’d already become rather accustomed to it. This time it was less awkward as he had some idea of what he was doing, and what John liked. He didn’t need to be so nervous. He took one more look at John’s throbbing member, taking time to memorise it properly this time, before gingerly placing his mouth around it.   
“Oh fuck...”   
Sherlock slowly swirled his tongue around the head, taking in the taste of pre cum. John groaned loudly, and threw his head back. Sherlock began to bob his up and down, comfortable with the weight on his tongue. He knew he could get four inches back before he’d start gagging, so he took in a little more.   
“Sherlock- mmm!”   
John brought his hands down to curl in sherlock’s hair, yanking softly, making the brunette moan around his cock.   
“Oh fuck!” John cried as the vibrations ran along his length.   
“Yes- yes- oh god... don’t- don’t stop- ah!”   
John hadn’t realised in his thralls of pleasure, but he had been bucking his hips, forcing his cock down Sherlock’s throat, his grip on his dark curls preventing him from moving. Sherlock hollowed his cheeks as best he could, and swallowed around johns cock.   
“Sherlock!” John howled as he reached his end.   
His vision went white as he shot off in to Sherlock’s mouth, his lower abdominal muscles tensing, earth shattering pleasure filling him. He was unable to form any words when Sherlock finally pulled back, completely stunned. Sherlock sat there panting as his adrenaline high came to an end. He noticed how uncomfortable he was in that moment. His underwear was soaked, and some of his release was beginning to trickle down his leg.   
“That... you’re so good at that... fucking hell.” John garbled as he ran a hand through his ashy blond hair.   
Sherlock stood up, and hungrily pressed his lips to Johns. John didn’t care anymore that he could taste himself on Sherlock’s lips, and opened his mouth regardless when Sherlock’s tongue swiped across his lips.   
“We... should... go...”   
“I need to get changed.” Sherlock mumbled as he pulled back.   
“Ok, go on then.”   
Sherlock pressed a parting kiss to johns lips before sauntering off in to the bathroom. John sat himself down on  
Sherlock’s bed as he tried to sort out the fastening on his trousers. Sherlock came back a few minutes later in a fresh pair of clothes.   
“This is the second time I’ve had to shower today.” Sherlock grumbled, referring to the jam incident.   
John chuckled, and jumped up to kiss Sherlock’s cheek.   
“Come on then.”   
The pair cautiously crept down the stairs, terrified someone had heard them. Thankfully, Mrs Holmes and Mycroft had the television on rather loud, and were sucked right in.  
“Be back in a little while.” Sherlock called as they slipped out of the house.   
They walked quickly down to johns house, laughing and joking as they went, affectionately bumping each other’s shoulders. John caught himself staring at Sherlock as they approached his house. He wasn’t sure how it had taken him so long to realise, but he had fallen in love with him.


	24. Pineapples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes Sherlock lose control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long... enjoy! Credit to Bloo1717 for the prompt at the end.

How would he tell him? How would he confess his love? John shook his head as he walked side by side with the younger boy on the way back. He knew he’d end up saying something stupid, he knew he would. He wouldn’t say anything for now. He’d keep his mouth shut, and come up with a solid plan.  
“Would you like to rent a film tonight?”  
“What?” John asked as he snapped out of his daze.  
“A film. Would you like to watch one?”  
Sherlock looked over at John as he opened the front door.  
“Sure.”  
Sherlock briefly announced their return before leading John back upstairs.  
“What do you want to do for the next few hours?” John asked seductively, pulling Sherlock to him by his hips.  
“I don’t know... ah!” Sherlock gasped as  
John slipped his hand down the front of his trousers, and squeezed him through his underwear.  
“But I have a feeling you have an idea.”  
Sherlock’s giggling escalated to moaning as John continued to tease him.  
“I do indeed.”  
“What did you have in-ah- mmmind... exactly?”  
John leant in by his ear, and whispered huskily.  
“I haven’t gone down on you yet. I think we should change that.”  
Sherlock stammered out a moan. He trembled in his shoes as John made a start on pulling down his jeans.  
“You want to?”  
John smirked at him and let out a husky chuckle.  
“I want to see you lose control.”  
Sherlock let out a somewhat desperate whimper and threw his head back. When John pulled Sherlock’s trousers and underwear down, he was rock hard and weeping. John felt a bolt of arousal go through him as he allowed his eyes to run over Sherlock. The younger boy had his eyes shut, teeth clenched, his chest rising rapidly and his cock throbbing between his legs.  
“Do you want sit down on the bed for me?” John purred.  
Sherlock complied eagerly as John guided him backwards and down on to the bed.  
“Say stop at any point, Alright?”  
Sherlock nodded enthusiastically, panting quietly. John slowly sunk to his knees between Sherlock’s legs, tightly gripping at his thighs. Sherlock let out a whine when he felt Johns hot, wet tongue run across his dripping slit. Sherlock tasted sweet with almost a tropical note.  
“Oh!” Sherlock squealed when he felt Johns soft lips envelope his cock.  
Johns mouth felt better than his hand, far better.  
“Mmmm... oh... oh...” Sherlock hummed as John took his cock further in to his mouth.  
John squeezed his thighs harder, gently grazing his milky skin with his nails as he pulled him closer. Sherlock got louder as John’s movements got faster. By this point, he was having to hold Sherlock down by his hips as they bucked off the bed at a rapid pace.  
“Fuck- oh fuck- John...” Sherlock moaned, rolling his head from side to side as he felt himself getting closer.  
John went on what Sherlock had done to him, and swallowed round the head of the brunette’s cock.  
“Oh fuck!” He howled in response, bolting upright.  
John did it again, and again and again.  
Sherlock couldn’t hold off any longer, the cord pulling tighter, tighter tight-  
“Nngghh- oh fuck... yes! Yes! Oh! AGH!”  
Sherlock doubled over with a low groan as he ejaculated.  
“Fuuucck...”  
John swallowed, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.  
“You taste amazing.” He purred when he stood back up.  
“What have you been eating?”  
“Pineapple.” Sherlock grinned coyly as he cleaned himself up.  
“You do that on purpose?”  
John’s breath was warm and minty as he spoke by Sherlock’s ear.  
“Was this all a plan? Did you bring me here to seduce me?”  
“Maybe...”  
Sherlock wriggled back in to his trousers, then fell back in a heap of giggles as John pushed him back on the bed. He ignored the unfamiliar taste on his lips as John reconnected their lips, and responded none the less. John trapped Sherlock underneath him, his knees either side of his narrow hips. Sherlock ran his hands down johns chest, and undid the zipper on johns jeans. The blond sighed happily as he felt Sherlock slip his hands down the front of his boxers.  
“Oh god...” He groaned with a thrust of his hips.  
“I’ll come back later then, shall I?”  
The hormonal teens quickly broke apart. Stood in the door way was a doubtful looking Mycroft.  
“Oh fuck!” John exclaimed as he hastily did his jeans back up.  
“My sentiments exactly.” Sherlock breathed. “What do you want anyway?”  
John quirked his eyebrows at Sherlock’s tone towards his brother.  
“Mummy says dinner is on the table. That is of course... if you’re still hungry.”  
Mycroft smirked at them both before slipping away in to his room.  
“Huh. I didn’t think Mycroft was capable of making jokes.”

“I like your pyjamas.”  
John looked up from his over night bag at Sherlock who was eying him flirtatiously over his book.  
“Thanks. I like yours too. But...” he started as he stood up. “I like you better without them.”  
Sherlock giggled and buried his head in the duvet.  
“Mmmm... we should go to sleep. Getting you off really tires me out.” John stated dryly, making Sherlock turn a bright shade pink.  
“Although to be honest, I’m kind of afraid to do anything now. Seeing Mycroft may have made my dick invert.”  
“He has that affect on people.” Sherlock chuckled.  
“Anyway... Night, babe.  
John bit his tongue to stop itself from saying the ‘L’ word. “See you in the morning... pineapples.” He said instead.  
Sherlock giggled, and shook his head.  
“Night, John.” The brunette grinned as they connected their lips in a parting kiss.  
John wouldn’t tell him now.  
He’d tell him tomorrow.  
That’s what he told himself as he eventually dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pineapples? Get it? No? Alright 😆


	26. Solving crimes in pyjamas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John go crime solving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy.

John woke up the following morning to find a pair of blue, cat eyes staring at him from behind a curtain of dark hair. He jumped back in surprise, his brain still a bit slow from sleep.   
"Sherlock? What the hell?"  
"You looked peaceful."   
Sherlock shrugged, then rolled over so he was on his back.   
"You're so creepy." John chuckled as he crawled over to Sherlock.   
Sherlock looked so cute from this angle John couldn't help pressing his lips into his.  
"This is like the spider man kiss." John mused as he pulled back.   
"Never bothered watching that film."   
"How have you not seen Spider-Man?"   
John looked at the brunette quizzically from his spot on the floor.   
"I never saw any point to it."   
"It's funny. That's the point."   
Sherlock rolled back onto his front, propping himself up on his elbows.   
"We could rent it this evening."   
"Yeah, ok."   
John got up from the floor, and sat beside Sherlock on the bed.   
"Hungry?"   
"Always.”  
Sherlock flashed John a grin, then got up and strode over to the door. The blond tagged along behind and followed him into the kitchen where Mrs Holmes was sat reading a book.   
"Good morning, mummy."   
"Morning, darling, John. How did you both sleep?"   
"Great." Sherlock said, winking at John after his mother had turned her back to them both.   
"Good, thanks."   
"Oh, Good. Now, what do you two want for breakfast. And no, Sherlock, it is not an option. You're eating it."   
Sherlock grumbled, but kept his mouth shut. He slumped down at the breakfast bar, and picked up a newspaper.   
"Waffles ok?"   
"Yes, thanks."  
John sat himself down next to Sherlock, and peered over at the newspaper. The page was about the murder of a teacher, and Sherlock was staring intently at the picture.   
"You prefer tea, right John?"   
"Umm, yes thanks. Sherlock, What are you doing?" John asked when he noticed the brunette jump up, and run into the living room.   
"Trying to find the news channel that's talking about the murdered teacher."  
"Right. Ok then."   
John shrugged off Sherlock's neuroticism, and turned his attention to the plate of waffles that had just been put in front of him.   
"Thanks Mrs Holmes."   
"No problem. Sherlock, come eat please."   
John could hear Sherlock mumbling the words 'colleague, promotion, and lipstick' over and over again as he wandered around the living room.   
"Sherlock, now please." His mother said more sternly this time.   
She gave an exasperated sigh when the teen entered the kitchen by jumping on to the coffee table. She gave them both a cup of tea, but Sherlock was too busy circling articles in another newspaper which he must have found in the other room, and kept his head bent in concentration.   
"I'm going to see if your brother wants to eat. He undoubtably wants caffeine." Mrs Holmes mumbled as she poured another cup of tea, and disappeared up the stairs.   
"Sherlock!"   
John lightly thwacked the other boy with yet another newspaper to get his attention. Sherlock lifted his curly haired head, and looked John dead in the eyes.   
"What did you do that for?" He asked, his attention going to the newspaper.   
"Where did that one come from?"  
"What?"  
"The newspaper. I didn't see it before. Where was it?"   
"Under my plate. See, I've finished. You on the other hand haven't moved in about ten minutes." John quipped, gesturing to Sherlock's plate, waffles untouched.   
He ignored the blond, and snatched the newspaper from him before burying his head in it.   
"Sherlock, What-"   
"I know who did it. We need to tell the police."   
Sherlock jumped up from his seat, startling John, and made a break for it.   
"You're going to the police?"  
"Yes." Sherlock responded from the hall.   
"In your pyjamas?"  
"Yes."  
John frowned, but decided not to argue.   
"At least you're swapping your slippers for actual shoes."   
"Are you coming with?" Sherlock asked, briefly disappearing behind a wall, then reappearing in the living room   
"It's 06:30 in the morning."   
"Yes, thank you for telling me the time, but that's not what I asked. Are you coming, or not?"  
"Ummm..."   
"I prefer company when I'm out. Helps to talk out loud, and the skull just attracts attention." Sherlock said, gesturing to the skull perched on the mantle piece.   
"Come on John. How often do you get to solve crime in your pyjamas? This will be a marvellous anecdote to share later in life."   
John hesitated for a moment before finally caving, and going into the hall to fetch his own shoes.   
"Mummy, we're off out!"  
"What?"   
A confused Mrs Holmes appeared at the top of the staircase, a very sleepy looking Mycroft behind her.   
"Where are you going?"   
"Just for a walk round the corner. Won't be long."   
"What, in your pyjamas?"  
"Why is everyone obsessed with pyjamas?" Sherlock asked, turning to look at John.   
The blond merely shrugged.   
"Have my waffles heated up for when I get back."   
Sherlock all but shoved John through the door, and quickly closed it behind the pair of them before his mother could argue with him. 

"So what's the plan, we're just going to run in there, and claim you've solved a murder."   
"It's not claiming if you really have done it. It's telling."   
Sherlock pulled his dark blue coat up around himself as they walked through the streets to the police station. The pair wandered in to the station, and waited for an officer to come over to them.   
"What is it boys? Here to complain about bullies at your school?"   
The police officer was in his late thirties, with a crooked smile, beady eyes, and was clearly a dickhead.   
"No, we are not, as wedgies are not illegal." Sherlock quipped, clasping his hands behind his back.   
"What are you here for then."   
"Jillian Cooke, murdered last week by her coworker in a crime of passion, obvious, and yet none of you have solved it."   
The officer didn't look convinced, and crossed his arms in a stand off with the teenager.   
"Prove it."   
Sherlock rolled his eyes, but John could see a twinkle in the blue orbs as the cogs inside the brunette's head started to move.   
"Jillian was a good teacher according to the papers, in fact she was an excellent teacher, highly sort after. She was meant to be transferring. In a video clip on the news, she is sat sporting a very vivid shade of orange lipstick.”   
Sherlock began to walk around the room as he spoke. “Orange lipstick? Who wears orange lipstick? Jillian obviously, and one of her male coworkers... do you follow? No of course you don’t.” He quipped before the officer could answer.   
“The pair were both seen in the video. The man was the deputy head, and he had offered Jillian a promotion. She declined it, unknowingly to him because of the new job offer. Because of the... unprofessional nature of their relationship, he found out that she was leaving, and just like that, what started as a domestic fight ended with him whacking her over the head with a lamp. Dead.”  
The officers grin disappeared at Sherlock's words, and was replaced by a look of shock. John, never having heard Sherlock's theory stood and watched in awe.   
"Need I go on?"  
The officer paused for a moment before finally coming to his senses.   
"I think you should go home, kid."  
"But I've just solved a murder for you, aren't you going to do something about it?" Sherlock asked in dismay.   
"It's my job to worry about that, not yours. Go home."   
The officer's voice was stern this time, something Sherlock either didn't pick up on, or was deliberately ignoring as he opened his mouth to continue proving his mouth.  
"But I-"   
"Sherlock, come on. Let's just go."  
John grabbed Sherlock by the arm, and all but dragged him out the door, and continued in this manner almost all the way to the top of his road.   
"How did you know all that?"  
"Same way I knew everything about you after having just met you." He mumbled, still seething.   
"You're brilliant, you know that, right?"   
Sherlock stopped in his tracks, and turned to regard his companion. Before he could come up with a response, an arrogant one no doubt, John grabbed him by his coat collar, and pulled him down into a kiss. Sherlock was surprised at first, but melted into it after a moment, his arms wrapping around John.  
“Come on then. You still need to eat your waffles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’m aware that’s like the most poorly thought out crime ever.


	27. Mr Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unwelcome visitor makes a reappearance in johns live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short, it is merely a filler for a larger plot. Enjoy, anyway!

The next day, the news article confirmed Sherlock had been right. No one was really surprised to be honest, but that didn’t mean John was any less impressed. He’d given Sherlock a discrete kiss on the way to school that morning, and another less discrete one after. John had been in a good mood right up until the moment he stepped into his living room. On the sofa, opposite his mother, was his farther. Johns father had left when he was five, And aside from the occasional holidays and weekends he was forced to spend with him, they spent very little time together.   
“What are you doing here?” John asked calmly with genuine curiosity.   
“Hey champ.”   
Johns father was tall and broad with the same ashy blond as himself.   
“Your mother and I want to discuss something with you and Harry.”  
“I think Harry would need to be here for that to be possible.” John quipped when he noticed the unsurprising absence of his sister.   
“We’ll tell you about it now, and she can find out later.” His mother said as she beckoned him to sit down.   
“I was thinking.” His father started. “You’re starting sixth form soon, so that’ll mean more homework on weekends. So you and I can still spend time together, I thought I should move closer. That way, you can spend a few days a week with me after school.”  
He should have been happy, but he was anything but. This was not a good thing. His dad wasn’t exactly a bad man, he was just very different to John. They had nothing in common, and didn’t have the best connection.   
“Alright.” John said after a moment, thrilled at least that he would have his weekends back.   
“Can I go now?”  
“Sure, champ.”   
That was always what he called him, never John. His father made it seem as though he was only proud of his athletic achievements. Calling him ‘champ’ almost made it seem like they had a coach/student relationship. It was so impersonal, John thought.   
“I’ll text you then, shall I?”  
“I suppose.” John murmured as he exited the room.   
This was just great(!) Just peachy(!)   
He sent a text to Sherlock asking to meet him tomorrow before school, to which the brunette replied eagerly. Maybe seeing Sherlock would take his mind off things, even if he didn’t want to discuss those things. John flopped down on his bed, face first in an attempt of being as despondent as possible.   
This was just great.


	28. Sherlock the cheerleader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets a taste of what it’s like to date the football captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only went and posted this on the wrong story. AO3 was acting up. *eyeroll* anyway, hope you enjoy! Drama in the next chapter!

“Sherlock?”  
“Mmmm?”  
“What do you think of these?”  
Sherlock lifted his dark head off the bed, and glanced down at the image from the sports direct catalogue John was showing him from where he was sat on the floor.   
“I think they’re trainers.” He replied somewhat unsure of Johns need for his opinion.   
“Yeah, but what do you think about them?”  
“I think they’re blue.”  
John chuckled and rolled his eyes.   
“No, do you think they’re nice?”  
“In any way that footwear can be nice... yes? Why?” Sherlock asked, rolling over so he was on his stomach to get a better look at the picture.   
“I need new football trainers. I wanted your opinion.”  
“Why? I don’t know anything about sportswear.”   
John furrowed his brows. It was in that moment that he realised how alien the concept of having friends was to Sherlock. He’d never had anyone in his life who valued his opinions. John felt sadness creeping up on him as he looked at the younger teen.   
“Because I care what you think.”  
Sherlock looked up from his book. He looked at John, searching his eyes for a moment.  
“Get the red ones.” He said finally. “That’s your colour.”  
John looked at the shoes Sherlock was indicating to. He was right.   
“Alright. Thanks.”  
John folded the page down to show to his mother later on.   
“Hey, ummm... I was wondering...” John started. “If you wanted to come to my game this Friday. It’s a big one.”  
A smile tugged at Sherlock’s lips.   
“I’ll be there.”  
John smirked to himself before pulling Sherlock down to him, and connecting their lips in a passionate kiss.   
“I’m sure we’ll win if I have you there cheering me on.”   
Sherlock chuckled and shook his head at the cheesy line. He settled back with his book, and simply enjoyed johns company. 

When Friday rolled around, Sherlock was there to watch johns game. What John hadn’t counted on, was his father being there too, and only a row away from his curly haired boyfriend. Thankfully he didn’t notice, leaving nothing to distract him from his game. He scored the winning goal with three minutes to spare. Half the school was there to watch, but the only person John cared about, was Sherlock, who was cheering away with great vigour. The brunette came running over to him as soon as the game was over and his teammates had scattered.   
“So, What did you think of your first football match?”  
“Well, the game itself is of very little interest to me, just people running around a muddy field... but you...” Sherlock rambled. “You have a technique that seems to work out in your favour-“  
“Sherlock.”  
The brunette looked up from the floor and met johns gaze.   
“You were amazing.”   
“That’s better.”   
They stared at each other for a moment, gaze flickering from the others eyes and lips. Sherlock eventually broke his gaze, only for it to fall on a number of johns fellow teammates embracing and kissing their girlfriends. John followed his gaze to the group of teens, then turned back to him with a sad smile.   
“I just have to go and get changed, then ummm... we can get coffee?”   
“Sure.”  
Sherlock watched as John walked away, shifting his weight from foot to foot, fiddling with the keys in his pocket. He eventually walked over to the changing rooms, and leant up against the building as he waited for John. The blond finally reappeared, a grin forming on his face once he spotted his companion. After a quick look around him, he grabbed Sherlock by the arm, lead him round the back of the building, and pressed him up against the wall as he attacked his lips.   
Sherlock let out a small gasp of surprise, but that quickly turned in to a moan of appreciation.   
“What was that for?”  
“Mmmm... I dunno. Maybe I’m just full of adrenaline.” John chuckled.   
“I aught to come to your games more often.” Sherlock mused as he looked down at the small amount of space between them.   
“Yes, you should. And maybe you should get yourself a little cheerleading costume.”  
Sherlock chortled, and playfully thumped John on the chest.   
“Coffee?”  
“Definitely.”


	29. Welcome to 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finally comes out to his parents, who have very different reactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

John walked through the door and in to his living room with the intention of watching television, but the look on his father’s face said otherwise.   
“Where’s mum?” He asked after a moment, reluctant to move away from the doorframe.   
“Work.”  
John loitered for a moment longer, wondering why his dad was here, before deciding to brush it off and sat down on the sofa.   
“We won today-“  
“I know.”   
John furrowed his eyebrows, and looked back up.   
“What? How do you-“  
“I was there.”  
John floundered for a minute, wondering what exactly his dad was getting at. His next words said it all.   
“I saw you.”   
His stomach dropped and his heart froze. He’d seen him.   
With Sherlock.   
“Dad, I-“  
“Tell me you’re not gay.”  
This was an opportunity. It was a loophole.   
‘Nah, of course not. He’s just a mate.’   
But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.   
“John.” His dad said firmly. “John Hamish Watson, you answer me right now!”  
“No, dad, I’m not.”   
Mr Watson faltered, then released a sigh of relief.   
“I’m bisexual. Welcome to 2019.”   
Mr Watson went completely silent. John knew that this was the quiet before the storm, and that this was his cue to leave. He darted for the door, grabbed his rucksack, and ran out of the house. He wanted nothing more than to run and see Sherlock, but he didn’t think that was the best idea exactly. Instead, he hopped on a bus in to town to meet his mother at work.   
“Hello, darling. What are you doing here?”  
“I need to talk to you.”   
His mother’s face contorted to show concern, fear even. John couldn’t blame her. Last time they had a conversation like this, it was about Harriet’s drinking, and the time before that it was about his father leaving. He supposed that compared to all that, having a boyfriend was not a big deal.   
“Dad is going to go ballistic when we go home, in fact he might even call you first in a fit... and ummm... i’m the reason why.”  
“Darling, What are you talking about?”  
“I’m gay.” John blurted out quickly. “Well, bisexual to be precise. I have a boyfriend, and I love him. If any of that isn’t ok with you, I am more than happy to find another place to sleep tonight.”   
John was out of breath when he finished. He’d never confessed his love for Sherlock not out loud, not even to Sherlock himself. His mother was quiet, but maybe that’s because he hadn’t given her a chance to respond. Maybe it was because she was angry, ashamed, disappointed-  
“Oh, sweetheart.”  
John almost gasped in surprise when he felt her arms surround him.   
“Mum...”  
Her body was jolting, and little beads of moisture were penetrating the collar of his shirt.  
“Are you crying?”  
“Yes.”  
“Is it because-“  
“It’s because you didn’t think I’d be ok with it.” She sighed as she pulled back.   
John searched her eyes. They were green, like Harriet’s.   
“Are you?” He asked after a moment, just to be sure.”  
“Darling, of course. You love who you love. I don’t care who it is, as long as they’re good for you, and they make you happy.”  
John felt a smile tugging at his lips as he thought of Sherlock.   
“Is there someone?” Mrs Watson asked upon noticing her son’s change in demeanour.   
“Yes.”  
Mrs Watson grinned broadly, and wiped the remainder of her tears on her palm.   
“Oh.” She said suddenly. “Is it Sherlock?”  
John laughed.   
“Is it that obvious?”  
“I’m your mother darling. I thought there was something special between you, although at the time I just thought it was a very special friendship.”  
John smiled again as he thought about how very special Sherlock was to him. Then he remembered the conversation that was waiting for him at home, and his stomach dropped.   
“Can you make sure dad isn’t in our house when we get back?” He asked as they walked down to the bus stop.   
“Wait, he’s in our house?”  
“Didn’t I say? Yeah, he’s there, and he wants to kill me.”   
“I’ll make sure he’s gone, ok? Maybe wait in a cafe, and I’ll sort him out.”  
John nodded. He felt relieved that his mother at least supported him. He moved closer to her and rested his head on her shoulder.   
“Aw, darling. Why don’t you ask Sherlock to meet you?”   
John lifted his head and smiled.   
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll text him.”

John got off the bus a stop before his mum, and wandered in to the cafe beneath Mrs Hudson’s flat. He took a seat and ordered himself a latte before Sherlock sauntered through the door.   
“Are you Alright?” He asked as he sat himself down opposite John.   
“No, not really.”  
“I know.”  
“Then why did you ask?”  
“People do.”  
John couldn’t help but smile a little.   
“So, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”   
John gave sherlock the details of the events that followed that evening. When he’d finished, the other boy remained silent.   
“Oh, and my mum knew by the way. Or so she says.”  
“Don’t think she saw through our ‘video game’ cover though, do you?” Sherlock teased after a moment.   
“I bloody hope not.”  
John ceased his laughter when he heard his phone ring.   
“Mum?”  
“Hello darling. I think I’ve managed to tame your father. It’s quite alright for you to come home.”  
“John. John.” A persistent Sherlock said, tapping his companion on the arm.   
“What?”  
“We can stay at Mrs Hudson’s.”  
John thought for a moment in contemplation.   
“Did you hear that, mum?”  
“I did. Is that your Sherlock?”  
Sherlock’s lips pulled in to a smirk.  
“Oh shut it you.”   
The brunette giggled then yipped indignantly when John playfully kicked him under the table.   
“Alright, you can stay. Separate rooms, though.”  
“Yeah, of course.” John said all the while shaking his head to Sherlock with an added wink.   
After they’d finished their coffees, they went knocking next door for Mrs Hudson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo, alone in a flat? I wonder what might happen...


	30. Friday, I’m in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this a bit rushed, but I wanted to get on to the next chapter... 😏

“Boys! What a nice surprise.”  
“Hello, Mrs Hudson.”  
She gave hugs to both boys, and eagerly invited them inside for tea, unknowingly adding to their caffeine intake.  
“What brings you here?”  
“We need to stay here.”  
“What he means is; can we stay here, please. Right babe?” John quipped, turning to look at the brunette.  
“Yes... That is what I mean.”  
“Well of course you can. It’s my pleasure.”  
After they had their tea, Mrs Hudson saw them upstairs.  
“Alright, there’s fresh linens on both beds. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”  
“Both beds. Like we’ll need two.” John teased after Mrs Hudson went down stairs.  
Sherlock blushed and buried his head in johns neck.  
“Mmm... so what do you want to do?” John cooed as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist.  
“Maybe we could listen to some music?”  
“Yeah, sure. Anything in particular?” John asked as he nuzzled Sherlock’s nose.  
“Perhaps another song by that bad we listened to the last time.”  
“The Cure? Sure.”  
John scrolled through his playlists, pausing when he came across a particular song. 

‘I don’t care if Monday’s blue,  
Tuesday’s grey, and Wednesday, too.  
Thursday, I don’t care about you, it’s Friday, i’m in love.’

They danced around the living room, Sherlock’s head on John shoulder as they moved across the floor. 

‘Monday, you can fall apart,  
Tuesday, Wednesday, break my heart,  
Thursday doesn’t even start,  
It’s Friday I’m in love.’

John pulled away from Sherlock for a moment, holding him at arm’s length so he could look at him.  
“I am.”  
Sherlock creased his eyebrows for a moment, then his eyes went wide and his lips parted as his brain caught up.  
“I am utterly, completely, head over heals in love with you.”  
Sherlock, normally quick on the uptake, was at a complete loss for words. He stood, non verbal, non blinking, just staring in to space.  
John was starting to panic, his heart surging, his stomach sinking.  
That’s when Sherlock pressed his lips to johns.  
“I love you.” He whispered against the blond’s lips, hardly breaking the kiss.  
A huge grin broke on to john’s face as he breathed a sigh of relief.  
“Thank god.”  
Sherlock giggled and wrapped his arms around johns neck as they reconnected their kiss. John placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips, pulling him closer, forcing their bodies flush together. John’s tongue tracing sherlock’s lips made him moan low in his throat, and his hips buck forwards.  
“Sherlock...”  
John stepped in between sherlock’s legs, rubbing his thigh against Sherlock’s groin.  
“Mmmm...” He moaned happily, giggling a little as John ran his hands up his chest.  
“Hey, umm do you want to maybe... go in to the bedroom?”


	31. The first time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have their first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this, I tried to make it as real as possible.

Sherlock’s heart was hammering in his chest as he followed John up the stairs.  
He wanted this. He wanted John.  
But he was nervous.  
Oh course he was nervous, everyone was on their first time. But it was going to be with John, and John loved him. A giddy feeling swept over him as he remembered johns confession of love to him. Obviously he was in love with john, and he had been for a long time, even before they had got together, but he had wanted to wait for john to say it first.  
They paused for a moment when they reached the top of the stairs.  
“So ummm... I was wondering if we-“  
“Yes.”  
John couldn’t help but chuckle at Sherlock’s eagerness.  
“Yeah?”  
Sherlock leant in, and pressed his lips to john’s.  
“Yes.”  
John smiled in to the kiss, and blindly steered them towards the bedroom.  
This was happening.  
They were actually going to have sex.  
As John pulled Sherlock in to the room, he thought about how this was pretty much all down to him. Then again, Sherlock was always full of surprises, and he might have some knowledge of the carnal variety locked away up there.  
He got distracted after a moment by Sherlock’s hands on the front of his football shorts.  
Oh god. This was going to happen.  
He attacked Sherlock’s mouth with his own, forcing his tongue past his lips as he lifted the brunette up so he was straddling his waist.  
John was hungry for more. The way Sherlock’s pelvis was pressing in to his, rubbing against his erection, the friction driving him absolutely mad.  
“Oh!” Sherlock squealed in surprise as John dropped them both on to the bed in a tangle of long, gangly teenage boy limbs.  
“Hi.”  
“Hi.” Sherlock giggled as John pressed a kiss to his forehead.  
They reconnected their lips in a passionate kiss, hot and messy, tongues fighting, teeth clacking.  
John brought his lips down to Sherlock’s neck, and gently bit at the skin.  
“Harder...” the slender boy moaned, arching his hips up.  
John smiled to himself as he sank his teeth further in to Sherlock’s soft skin.  
“Mmmm...” Sherlock groaned with a roll of his head.  
“Oh fuck.” John grumbled suddenly.  
“What? What’s wrong?”  
“I don’t have condoms. I’m assuming you don’t either?”  
Sherlock shook his head.  
“Fuck.”  
“We could do it without one...?”  
John raised his eyebrows.  
“Yeah, I mean sure. I’ve never done anything... you haven’t... should be ok. As long as you’re sure?”  
“Yes. Yes, I’m sure.” Sherlock said honestly.  
“We still don’t have lube though.” John chuckled mirthlessly.  
“We could use Aloe Vera. I read that works.”  
“Where did you read that?”  
“Does that really matter?” Sherlock asked incredulously.  
John chortled and shook his head.  
“There’s some in the bathroom. Mrs Hudson always has some on hand in case I get sunburnt. It happens more often than I’d like to admit.”  
Sherlock wriggled off John’s lap and trekked over to the bathroom.  
Whilst he was alone, John began to go through the technicalities of what was about to happen.  
He knew this was going to hurt Sherlock, and he knew he would be the cause of it. What if he finished too fast?  
What if he couldn’t make Sherlock cum?  
What if it wasn’t enjoyable for either of them?  
What if it was really awkward?  
John ceased his thoughts when he saw Sherlock reappear at the doorway.  
The brunette was light on his feet as he sauntered back over to John and handed him a green tinted bottle full of a glue like fluid.  
“Well, you know what I think Sherlock?”  
“What?” Asked the other boy as he tentatively perched at the edge of the bed.  
“I think you’re wearing too many clothes.”  
Sherlock squeaked when John pinned him down to the mattress with his hips, attacking his lips with a fiery passion.  
“I do believe you’re right... about that...” Sherlock groaned as he raised his arms for John to pull his shirt over his head.  
Johns lips were back on his in an instant, not wanting to be without the wonderful sensation for more than he had to.  
“God... you’re so fucking sexy... I can’t wait to be inside you...”  
“Oh john...” Sherlock whined, arching his back in to johns touch.  
With shaking fingers, Sherlock managed to pull the football shirt John had failed to change out of over his head.  
“I want you so bad... I want to know how it feels to have my cock inside your tight, pretty little ass.”  
Sherlock gasped at this, a bolt of arousal rushing straight to his already rock hard cock.  
“Oh god, John fuck me.”  
“Might need to take your trousers off then.”  
Sherlock giggled as he watched John’s fumbled attempt of pulling his trousers down his legs.  
He bit back a moan as he witnessed john pull off his football shorts, leaving him in his red boxer shorts that did very little to hide his arousal.  
John was kissing him again, heated and passionate as ever. His fingers were in Sherlock’s hair, and Sherlock’s arms were around his neck, his legs wrapped around the blond’s hips.  
Sherlock had opted for covering up how nervous he was with allowing himself to get lost in the foreplay, but he couldn’t deny the nagging feeling in his stomach that got stronger and stronger as the moment got more real.  
He clearly wasn’t fooling anybody with his vulgar words because john pulled back and stared down at him with a look of concern.  
“Baby, are you alright?”  
Sherlock worried his lip between his teeth.  
“It’s ok to be nervous. In fact, I’d be kinda worried if you weren’t.”  
Sherlock blinked his cat eyes a few times, trying desperately not to let the iridescent beads of moisture fall from them, despite how keen they were to escape.  
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”  
Sherlock shook his head.  
“That’s not it. I am ready... I’m just... scared.”  
John pressed a chaste kiss right on his Cupid’s bow.  
“Me too.”  
The notion that he wasn’t the only one feeling this way seemed to provide him a sense of comfort.  
With his new found courage, he reached for johns hand, and brought it down to the waistband of his underwear.  
“You sure?”  
“Yes.” Sherlock nodded  
John kept his lips on Sherlock’s as he laced his fingers through the waistband of Sherlock’s cotton briefs, only pulling away briefly to admire his raging hard-on.  
When John went on to pull down his own underwear, Sherlock stopped his hands, and took to the task himself. He flashed John a coy, coquettish smile as he pulled the red boxers down his legs.  
Sherlock felt a twinge of panic as he remembered he’d have to get John’s well endowed cock inside of him. He felt that panic change to arousal when he realised how good it was going to feel.  
“I want you, John.” He groaned against the blond’s cheek.  
“You sure?”  
“Yes.”  
John pressed a kiss to sherlocks lips before reaching down to the end of the bed for the Aloe Vera.  
“You know I have to prepare you first?”  
“Yes, I know.”  
Sherlock, like with every aspect of relevance, had studied up on what to expect. Over the last few days, he’d even been regulating when he ate on the days he went to see John, just in case events were to present themselves.  
“Have you... cleaned yourself?”  
Sherlock felt a flush appear on his cheeks as he realised John was questioning his bathroom habits.  
He offered up no words, but instead a bashful nod.  
“Sorry. Had to ask. Wait a second, have you been planning for this?” John asked with a fiendish grin.  
“I just thought it was a good idea to be prepared...” Sherlock mumbled with a hint of embarrassment in his voice.  
“Have you... thought a lot about this then?”  
Sherlock was sure he was so red now he’d put a tomato to shame.  
“Maybe...” He trailed off when he felt Johns lips on his neck.  
“Oh yeah?”  
“Yes...”  
“That’s hot.”  
Sherlock giggled a little at John’s blatant response. His giggles turned to soft moans as John dragged his lips down his pale torso, all the way to his pubic bone.  
“Ah!” He gasped out suddenly when johns lips briefly enveloped his aching cock.  
John sat back with a grin, and applied a generous amount of lube to his fingers. He moved forwards again, and slowly parted Sherlock’s legs, dragging his fingers up his inner thighs till they were right by Sherlock’s tight ring of skin.  
He could feel Sherlock’s legs shaking.  
His hands were shaking too.  
“John?”  
“Yeah, baby?”  
“Everything ok?”  
“Yeah, yeah. You ready?”  
Sherlock nodded.  
John supported his weight on his left arm as he leant in to kiss Sherlock.  
Said boy let out a squeal when he felt one of John’s fingers probing his entrance.  
It was weird. It didn’t hurt, but it was definitely weird.  
“How’s that?” John panted against his lips.  
“It’s fine.”  
John slowly began to pump his finger in and out whilst he continued to press passionate kisses on and around Sherlock’s lips.  
“Can you manage another one?”  
“Yeah.” Sherlock moaned, voice slightly strained.  
He twitched when John added another finger and began a scissoring motion.  
“Oh...” Sherlock moaned as he felt a rush of pleasure.  
“You like that?”  
“Yeah... do it again?”  
He did, this time with three fingers.  
“Oh fu...” Sherlock panted, subconsciously beginning to rock his hips forwards to meet johns fingers.  
“Ah... ah- ah! John...”  
John didn’t want to make him cum yet.  
He wanted to be inside him when that happened.  
He wanted to be sheathed deep inside sherlock’s body when he felt his muscles clenching down.  
John felt himself threatening to burst already at the very thought.  
He got himself under control before slowly pulling his fingers back out again.  
“John...”  
Sherlock looked spaced, his eyes glazed over as he stared out in front of him.  
“I’m going to start for real now. Is that ok?”  
“Yes.”  
“Ok. I... need to get your hips up. Here, hand me that pillow.”  
John positioned the pillow under the small of Sherlock’s back and positioned himself between his long legs.  
Sherlock felt panic creeping up on him again.  
He wasn’t sure where he was supposed to look, whether to close his eyes, whether to look at the ceiling. His heart was pounding, threatening to break his ribs, his lungs were desperately scrambling for oxygen, his brain short circuiting.  
Was this a panic attack?  
The world was whirling, everything was upside down, time was spinning out of control.  
He was completely overwhelmed by all the thoughts hitting him.  
John.  
Pupils wide. Red cheeks. Shoulders heaving. Heart racing.  
John.  
Heat. Heavy breathing. Body shaking.  
John.  
Sex. Kissing.  
John.  
Lips.  
John.  
John.  
John. 

Then he felt Johns lips against his own, and johns hands in his hair, and he felt himself relax.  
“I love you, Sherlock.”  
Johns voice was soft and comforting as he looked down at Sherlock with deep affection.  
The brunette felt his heart melting as he stared up at the golden athlete.  
“I love you, John.”  
The blond pressed an open mouth kiss to the other boy’s lips, emitting a low moan from him.  
“Ok, I’ll be as careful as possible.”  
“I know you will.”  
John smiled a warm, sweet smile before planting a gentle kiss on Sherlock’s lips.  
“Tell me to stop at any point ok?”  
Sherlock nodded.  
“Ready?”  
“Yes.”  
John took a deep breath before grasping his cock and positioning his tip at Sherlock’s entrance.  
The brunette let out a small yip, and grabbed at the sheets.  
John felt his emotions pin balling around in his head, dipping and circling like the craziest roller coaster he’d ever had the endeavour of riding.  
He was going to have sex.  
He was going to loose his virginity.  
He was going to lose his virginity to the boy he loved.  
Sherlock.  
His beautiful Sherlock, who had his head propped up on pillows, his dark hair splayed about around him like an ebony halo.  
He was so gorgeous.  
And all his.  
He had the bite marks on his neck to prove it.  
John grinned to himself as he looked back down at where their bodies were about to join.  
Oh fuck.  
“Ok, ok... this is probably gonna hurt.”  
Sherlock braced himself on John’s shoulders, elbows locked in position.  
As Sherlock carried all of his height in his legs, the fact that he was a few inches taller than John was one that was completely lost with them lying down.  
They were able to kiss comfortably from this angle without a problem.  
“Ready?” John asked, his voice thick and husky with arousal.  
“Yes.”  
With that, John pressed their lips back together, and gently pushed the head of his cock past Sherlock’s ring of muscle.  
“Oh!” The brunette cried out in pain.  
“Shit! Baby, I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m hurting you. Shall I stop?”  
Sherlock’s eyes were screwed shut, his teeth gritted as he shook his head.  
“No, no. Don’t stop. It only hurts a bit. It’ll be ok.”  
John chewed the inside of his cheek as he tried to ignore the amazing warmth and tightness of Sherlock’s body around his, and instead focus on the fact that it was going to get worse for Sherlock before it got better.  
“After this next bit, Yes, but for now, umm... you might want to bare down on something.”  
That something ended up being john’s shoulder as the blond pushed himself further inside Sherlock’s tight passage.  
A sob wracked the brunette’s body as he sank his teeth in to johns flesh, causing the other boy to let out a cry of his own.  
“Sorry.” Sherlock whimpered.  
John shook his head.  
“Don’t worry about it, baby.”  
Sherlock swallowed audibly, and threw his head back as he tried to adjust to the weird, stinging feeling.  
John felt his heart strings pull as he watched Sherlock wincing in pain.  
He stayed still for a moment braced on his arms, his lip chewed between his teeth as he tried to deny the intense pleasure he was feeling.  
“Should I stop?”  
“No, I’m ok. It doesn’t hurt so much now. You can continue.” Sherlock said with earnest, choosing to ignore the pain.  
John raised his eyebrows, searching for confirmation. Sherlock offered him a nod in return, and reached forward to grab at his shoulders, careful to avoid the bite mark.  
John swallowed, then experimentally rolled his hips forwards.  
“Ah!” Sherlock wailed, screwing his eyes shut.  
“Ok, that’s it. I can’t do this if it’s hurting you.”  
“No, no don’t... don’t stop.” Sherlock garbled, grabbing at johns shoulders when he went to pull back. “Please, don’t stop. Please... Please.”  
Their foreheads were pressed together, glossy layers of sweat between them, sharing each other’s air as their lungs worked in overdrive.  
“Please, John?” Sherlock begged, staring deeply in to the blond’s darkened eyes.  
“Ok... ok, but if I hurt you-“  
“John I’ll be fine.”  
John swallowed and nodded his head before capturing Sherlock’s lips in a messy, open mouth kiss. Sherlock squealed in astonishment when John pushed in to him again.  
It didn’t hurt as much now. It felt more bizarre than painful, like a sort of pressure.  
Sherlock looked down between them, and saw that there was no simple defining point that he ended and John began. He switched his gaze up to johns face which was contorted with pleasure. He was clearly trying his hardest to resist from just slamming right in to Sherlock, again and again until they were both howling.  
Sherlock reconnected their lips, salty from where beads of sweat had rolled down from their Cupid’s bows.  
“Oh fuck... How’s... how’s this?” John asked, his voice strained and husky.  
Sherlock felt his cock throb between them at the quality of his voice.  
“It’s getting better.” He said honestly, moving his hips a little from where he was pinned underneath the other boy’s weight.  
“You’re ok to start moving.”  
John, desperate to chase after the pleasurable sensations he was feeling didn’t hesitate before bucking his hips forwards.  
“Gah!” Sherlock gasped.  
This cry was different.  
There was some sort of euphoric tones accompanying the expression of pain as his eyes screwed shut.  
“How was that?”  
“Better. Do it again.”  
“Do it again?”  
“Yes. Yes.” Sherlock panted, threading his fingers in to johns hair.  
John thrusted his hips forwards again so his cock was submerged about five inches.  
“Mmmm...” Sherlock groaned, his eyes fluttering closed this time instead of violently clenching.  
John wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to hold of his impending climax for as long as it might take to get Sherlock settled.  
It was already so good, and he wasn’t even completely sheathed yet.  
“Do you reckon you can take more?” John asked tentatively, his concerns pressing at him.  
Sherlock made some noise of bemusement before opening his eyes again.  
“Maybe. Try it.”  
John pushed himself all they way forwards this time, his sharp hipbones pressing in to Sherlock’s soft body.  
“Oh! Mmmngghh...” Sherlock groaned, bearing his teeth.  
He was so full, his body completely stretched out to accommodate john’s length. He felt as though John was going to split him right up he middle, and not in a good way.  
“Does that hurt?”  
“It doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t exactly feel good either.” Sherlock hissed in discomfort.  
“Sorry.”  
“It’s not your fault.” Sherlock murmured, pressing a kiss to john’s cheek.  
“Hang on, let me try something. Can you get your legs over my shoulders?”  
Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, but slung his long limbs over johns broad shoulders regardless.  
John connected their lips in a hot and heavy kiss before thrusting in to him again.  
Sherlock made a noise of salacious bliss at this, pulling back from the kiss to gasp aloud.  
“Good?”  
“Oh god yes. Keep going!” Sherlock panted out, breathing heavily as he tugged at the soft roots of johns hair.  
The blond let out a guttural moan in response before bucking his hips again.  
With Sherlock actually beginning to enjoy himself, John felt as though he could finally allow himself to enjoy it too. He knew that once he did that though, it wouldn’t last very long, the vice like grip Sherlock’s body had on him being the most intense, euphoric sensation he’d ever felt.  
He felt Sherlock had the right to know this.  
“You feel so fucking tight around my cock. So fucking good!”  
Sherlock moaned at this, arching his hips off the bed.  
“John...”  
The low groan of his name had John reeling. He felt his climax approaching, followed by the dread that it had only been going well for about thirty seconds.  
“Don’t suppose you’re close at all?” John grunted, his hips snapping forwards in an unsteady rhythm.  
“No, sorry.”  
It felt good, but there was still a twinging pain around his ring of muscle that was keeping him grounded.  
John wondered for a moment if he would be able to find Sherlock’s prostate. That would probably get him off.  
“Hang on a sec. Can you lift your hips up again?”  
Sherlock sucked his cheeks in between his teeth in a manner that rather made him look like a fish as he raised his hips again to allow John to push another pillow underneath him.  
John was almost directly above him now, providing him with a better angle. He locked his elbows in place before dropping his hips again.  
“Oh fuck!”  
Yeah, that got it.  
In fact, John was so surprised at Sherlock’s outcry that he almost pulled all the way out.  
“Fucking hell John! Was that... was that my prostate?”  
“Indeed it was.”  
“Fucking do it again!” Sherlock exclaimed, bringing both hands up to cup johns face and pull him in to a sloppy kiss.  
Once he’d recovered from his surprise, John thrust in again making Sherlock cry out in ecstasy.  
“Oh god, John! Yes! Your cock feels so good inside me!” He groaned, throwing his head back.  
John couldn’t resist the temptation of assaulting Sherlock’s pale neck, dipping his tongue in to the hollow of his throat.  
“John- fu- please- more!”  
He didn’t need to be told twice, and quickly got to thrusting his hips with abandon.  
“Oh fucking hell- yes! Yes! Yes!”  
John couldn’t hold off any longer.  
He felt the cord in his stomach tightening, tightening, tightening-  
“Jesus Christ, Sherlock!” John howled as he felt his orgasm rip through him.  
He screwed the bed sheets in to his fists as he shot his load deep inside of Sherlock’s tight passage.  
Said boy let out a loud cry at the feeling of being filled before reaching his own end, and ejaculating all over his stomach.  
“Oh god!”  
John’s arms gave out, causing him to fall on to Sherlock’s chest.  
“Oh my god.”  
“There has been a lot of praising a deity this evening.” Sherlock giggled.  
John couldn’t help but marvel at the odd sensation that enveloped his over stimulated cock as Sherlock giggled around him.  
John steadied his breathing and dropped his head down on to Sherlock’s abdomen.  
“We just had sex.”  
John glanced up at Sherlock, who was staring out in front of him looking mildly bemused.  
“Yeah, little bit.”  
“Shit.” He chuckled, still floating on the euphoric high that accompanied orgasm.  
They lay like that for a moment, basking in the after glow, chests heaving, hearts pounding, bodies gleaming with sweat, their skin sticking together.  
“Are you ok?” John asked after a moment, the sudden reminder that Sherlock was in pain for the majority of the encounter.  
“Sore.” Sherlock said honestly.  
“I’m so sorry, baby.”  
John pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth followed by a gentle nuzzle to his nose.  
“It’s ok. It was definitely worth it. The way you made me feel at the end... damn.”  
John chortled and captured Sherlock’s lips in another kiss.  
“God, I love you so much.”  
Sherlock looked as if he was about to cry at this.  
“I love you. So, so much.”  
Their next kiss was slow, and tentative, unlike the messy ones they shared in the previous moments.  
“Do you want me to pull out?”  
“No.” Sherlock said quickly, shaking his head. “I want to stay close to you.”  
He looked so bashful as he searched johns eyes.  
“Let me just move the pillows then. My legs are cramping.”  
John was still in between Sherlock’s legs knelt up at such an angle that he was resting his chest on the backs of Sherlock’s thighs, the other boy’s legs still draped over his shoulders.  
He managed to shuffle the pillows out from underneath the brunette’s back, then carefully manoeuvred Sherlock’s softening cock to the side so he could lie down again.  
He rested his chin on his hands as he stared up at Sherlock in adoration. He looked so gorgeous in his post climactic bliss, his dark curls stuck to his forehead, eyes dark, cheeks flushed, tears staining them... oh shit.  
John immediately felt a stab of guilt go through him as he remembered that he’d inflicted that pain on him.  
“Are you sure you’re ok?”  
“Yes. I promise.”  
After a few more minutes, they both began to feel drowsy.  
John pressed a chaste kiss to Sherlock’s lips then went to pull out, but he felt his stomach fall through the floor when he caught sight of a red liquid.  
Blood.  
“Shit...”  
“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked, rubbing his eyes as he leant forwards.  
“I don’t want to panic you... but ummm... you’re bleeding a little bit.”  
The colour drained from Sherlock’s face as he followed johns gaze to where they were still joined.  
“Oh fuck.”  
“It’s alright, let’s not panic.”  
“Easy for you to say, your ass isn’t bleeding!”  
John bit his tongue.  
“Ok, ok. I’m going to pull out, we’re gonna get cleaned up, and then we’re gonna wait and see if it gets better.”  
“Wait and see? Some plan, Doctor Watson(!)” Sherlock muttered with a roll of his eyes.  
His expression evolved in to one of fear and alarm after a moment, so John chose to put his acerbic tone down to that.  
“Baby, look at me.”  
It was in his nature to obey and look up to meet johns gaze.  
“You’re gonna be ok.”  
Sherlock was so use to other people saying ‘comforting nonsense’ like this, and the recipients taking their word as gospel. He always labelled these people as sentimental buffoons, and yet here with John, he found himself believing his every word.  
“Sherlock?”  
The brunette nodded, his cerulean feline eyes brimming with tears.  
“Alright, this is going to sting.”  
Being as careful as possible, John slowly pulled out his softened cock.  
Sherlock winced, and balled the sheets up in to his fists.  
“Ok, there, there it’s done. It’s ok, it’s ok.”  
John immediately pulled Sherlock in to his arms and held him close to his chest, kissing his cheeks and whispering words of love in his ear.  
After a moment, John left for the bathroom to get some flannels, but he was back within a few seconds.  
They were quiet as they got cleaned up and after they got settled under the covers, but not because they had nothing to say, but because no words needed to be spoken.  
Wrapped in johns arms, john’s face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, his body spooned around him, Sherlock couldn’t have felt safer. He could feel Johns heart beating against his back, his warm breath against the nape of his neck.  
The bleeding had stopped, John was able to put his mind at rest, and was now drifting in and out of consciousness.  
“Sherlock?” He asked whilst he was able to keep his eyes open.  
“Mmmm?”  
“I love you.”  
He couldn’t help but blush like a fool.  
Less than an hour ago, John was inside his body, fucking him for all he was worth, and NOW he was blushing?!  
He rolled over to face John, and pressed a kiss to his lips.  
“I love you.”  
Sleep was definitely a necessity, and the pair finally drifted off the sleep, neither of them worrying about the fact that Mrs Hudson had heard everything.


	32. Detective Harriet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no way not to make this corny. I tried, I failed, I’m sorry.

The next morning, John awoke first.   
Sherlock was wrapped in his arms, his face buried in his chest, quiet sighs escaping him.   
They hadn’t got dressed last night, although Sherlock still had a flannel tucked between his legs.   
John couldn’t help but feel guilty as he remembered the tears that fell from Sherlock’s eyes.   
At this, he pressed a gentle kiss on Sherlock’s head, hoping to wake him as even though he was right there, John found himself missing his company.   
The brunette did stir, much to John’s delight, and batted his eyelids profusely as he adjusted to the light.  
“Morning.”  
A look of glee appeared across Sherlock’s face.   
“It’s so nice to be able to say that to you first thing.”   
John grinned and pressed a tentative kiss to Sherlock’s lips.  
“I love you so much.”  
“I love you... with all my heart.”  
John pulled him closer, and rested his cheek amongst Sherlock’s dark curls.  
“Feeling any better this morning?” He murmured, gently tracing little circles on to Sherlock’s shoulder.   
“Still in pain, but it’s not so bad now. I don’t think I’m bleeding again.”   
“That’s good.”  
“We just need to use more lubrication next time.” Sherlock sighed off hand.   
“Next time?” John grinned. “Already planning a next time, are we?”   
“Maybe.” Sherlock blushed.   
“Well... I don’t know if we’ll be welcome back here... because I’m pretty sure Mrs Hudson heard everything.”   
Sherlock’s eyes flew wide before he eventually burst in to a fit of giggles and buried his face in the duvet.   
“Mmm... do we have to be anywhere?”   
“It’s Saturday... so, no.”  
“Thank god.” John sighed.  
He didn’t exactly want to bellyache to Sherlock about his pains, but his body felt as though he had taken a beating from the entire football team.   
“You know... we never actually go on dates.” Sherlock blurted out of the blue.  
John furrowed his brows as he realised he was right; other than the coffee shops they frequented, their time together was mainly spent just hanging out in one of their rooms.   
As John thought about this, he realised that the bedroom was fast becoming his favourite place to ‘hang out’ with Sherlock.   
“I believe you’re right about that. Want to try and catch a movie or something this evening?”   
Sherlock rolled over in johns arms and frowned at him.   
“How romantic(!)”   
“My apologies.” John chuckled. “My love, would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the pictures this fine evening?”   
Sherlock grinned and nodded his head before planting a kiss on johns lips.   
He went to pull back, but John held him close, gripping him by the hips and pulling him up so the brunette was straddling him, his head adorned with ‘freshly got fucked hair’, strands of it dangling over his eyes.   
Sherlock couldn’t help the broad grin that crept on to his face as he leant in to the kiss.   
With John was always where he was happiest, Well happy full stop, and lying here, naked, lying on top of the handsome blond, was by far the happiest he’d ever been.   
When they pulled away, Sherlock rested his elbows on johns chest, his chin propped up on his hands.   
“What are you thinking about?” John asked softly, threading his fingers through Sherlock’s curls.  
The brunette coyly ran his tongue over his lips.   
“You.”   
“Oh yeah?” John drawled, running his hands down Sherlock’s spinal column and coming to rest on his hips.   
“What about me?”   
Sherlock dropped his head so his face was buried in johns neck, little noises of embarrassment escaping him.   
“What, Sherlock? Come on, spit it out.”   
Sherlock moved back to his previous position, staring up at John through his dark lashes.   
“Just thinking about... how much you’ve... changed my life. Fuck, that was corny.”   
John couldn’t help but grin at the other boy’s bashfulness.   
“Indeed, but it was cute.”  
John nuzzled Sherlock’s nose affectionately, inhaling the brunette’s scent of coffee, mint and honey, this time with the addition of the distinct smell of sex.   
The whole room lingered with the aroma of the libidinous activities that had taken place. They should probably do something about that.   
After a few more minutes of cuddling, they both came to the conclusion that they were in great need of showers, so decided to shower at each of their houses, then meet up again at midday for a movie. 

Almost as soon as he’d got through the door, John ran in to Harriet, wrapped in a dressing gown, clearly disturbed by Johns return.   
“It’s eight thirty, why do you look so happy...oh my god.”   
Upon Harry’s face appeared a Cheshire Cat grin, spanning from ear to ear.  
“You had sex, didn’t you?”   
John was used to a certain level of observation from Sherlock, but it was weird coming from his sister who once failed to notice a fire in their microwave, a result of leaving a spoon in a bowl of pasta. There must be something very blatant that was giving him away.   
“What makes you say that?”  
“One, You look way too happy, two, you’re sneaking back in the early hours of the morning, and three, an innocent person would have just flat out said ‘no, I didn’t.”   
John grit his teeth as he realised she was right.   
“Ooo ooo.” Harry chimed in a sing song tone, reaching forwards to squeeze John’s shoulders.   
He desperately tried to avoid flinching when her hand come in contact with the bite mark, then his intentions changed to keeping the grin off his face as his thoughts circulated back to last night for the umpteenth time.   
“Ok, give me details.”  
While John was a little chagrined at the notion of telling anyone about the intimate details of last night, but he was also rather elated at the bonding moment that was occurring between the two of them, something that had become increasingly rare throughout the years.   
“Oh, like that’s not weird(!)”  
“No, no I don’t mean like those kinda details, I mean like... did you have fun?”   
Even though the question was vague, and not nearly as crude as it could have been, John still felt his cheeks flushing.   
“Yes.”  
It was wonderful...   
“Well, come on. What else?”  
“You said you wouldn’t ask for details.” John chided as an insistent Harry followed him in to his room.   
“I just want to make sure it went well. That nobody got hurt, and you’re alright. It can be quite emotional.”  
“Yeah,” John started, unsure as to why Harry was being all... ‘sisterly’ towards him. “I’m fine.”  
Harry beamed at him then.  
“That’s good. Alright, catch you later... stud.”   
John rolled his eyes at her before jogging down the stairs, only to meet his mum in the hall.   
“John... I overheard you and Harriet talking upstairs.”  
Oh for fucks sake...  
“Now, darling, I know you’re old enough to have sex, but being mature enough to deal with that responsibility is something else entirely.”  
“Oh, mum-“  
“Let me finish. Now, I don’t want to make a big thing about it, but I want you to be safe.”   
John felt his cheeks burning up immediately as his mum all but forced a box of condoms in to his hands.   
“I trust you to be sensible. I won’t say anything more about it now, but if you want to talk, I’m here.”  
John didn’t know how to respond to this, so he simply offered a curt nod, lips drawn in to a taut line while his mother returned to the kitchen.  
As John returned to his room, a thought popped in to his head.  
Why the fuck has she got condoms?


	33. Was it a good film?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock navigates his feelings towards John after losing his virginity to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short. Enjoy though!

Sherlock had been lost in thought since he and John turned on to different roads at the end of the street.   
Giving himself like that, being so vulnerable, emotional... it wasn’t something he was keen on.   
He’d spend the past few hours overthinking every little detail.   
But the moment he saw John, it all went away.   
He’d been vulnerable because he trusted John, he’d been emotional because he loved John, and all of that was reminded to him with merely the sight of the blond in his denim jacket on the other side of the lobby. 

“Hey.”

“Hello.” 

Sherlock blushed when John kissed his cheek. 

The movie was good.   
The movie was alright.   
The movie was fantastic.   
It could have been any of these things, but neither of them had the faintest idea. 

“Fuck, you get me so hot.” 

Sitting in the quiet back row had been a rather marvellous idea.   
Sherlock definitely thought so as John kissed him senseless in the dark room. 

“I want to make love to you again and again...mmmmgghh... fuck.” 

It wasn’t the most comfortable of ways to sit, Sherlock sat sideways with his back against the arm rest, John knelt on his chair, settled between Sherlock’s legs. 

Sherlock was in too much discomfort to have sex again quite yet, but he made no objection to the blow job he received in the disabled toilets. 

“John...”

He was doing his best to stay quiet, but the way John’s tongue worked the underside of his cock had him ready to burst. 

“Shh...” John reiterated round his mouthful, clearly trying not to giggle. 

He moved his mouth up and down thrice more before Sherlock was coming with a loud sob and a cry of his name.  
The brunette slumped down the wall, breathless and flushed. 

“You alright?” John asked as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“Yeah... just give me a minute... need to catch my breath... so I can return the favour.” 

John was sure they wouldn’t be allowed back to that cinema after today, but he didn’t care.   
He kissed Sherlock till they were both breathless, the. left him with the promise that they’d make out in the storage cupboard at school on Monday.


End file.
